


Together or Not At All

by Lush_Specimen



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Canon, Rescue, Self-Esteem Issues, idiots to friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: Early in the war, Decepticons ambush an Autobot transport with the intention to score a decisive victory and leave no survivors. Everyone races to the escape pods except for two self-sacrificing heroes that happen to have the same idea. If Hot Rod can overlook the massive chip on his shoulder to set aside his disdain of the renowned captain Thunderclash, maybe they can work together to save their doomed crew.Saving each other might be a bit tougher... The bickering is strong with this one!Inspired byPrismPunkie'sawesometumblr post
Relationships: ...eventually - Relationship, Hot Rod & Thunderclash, Ratchet & Thunderclash (Transformers)
Comments: 130
Kudos: 30





	1. What are YOU doing here?!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [PrismPunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismPunkie/pseuds/PrismPunkie) for the great idea! I got super inspired and here we are!

Hot Rod raced through the doomed transport ship. Explosions rocked the entire vessel, and the low groan of rending metal sent a shiver down his spinal struts. A section of the ceiling gave way, raining down burning debris. He dove forward, narrowly slipping past the collapse. 

The percussive thud of Decepticon ordnance slammed the ship. The entire vessel listed hard to the right. Hod Rod slid down the sloped hallway, wishing that the artificial gravity generator would give up the ghost already. It would be a lot easier to dodge the destruction if it floated away instead of heavily dropping right on him. 

He rounded another corner, venting in relief to find the stairwell fairly intact. Hopping up on the handrail, Hot Rod slid down at record speeds. Recalling his many days of outrunning Sentinel's goons in Nyon, he expertly looped around every bend like a parkour master. Reaching the bottom, Hot Rod hit the ground running. He was almost there! 

The Decepticon Warworld, Nemesis, had chased them through the asteroid belt for days. Although their transport was smaller and faster, the Decepticons held every advantage in firepower. Knowing that most of Autobot high command, including Optimus Prime was on board, the Nemesis pursued them relentlessly. 

Hot Rod didn’t know the identity of the transport’s pilot, but he was good, like heroically good. They dipped and darted through the asteroids, never once taking the slightest damage, steadily widening their lead away from the Decepticons. Confident of his own piloting abilities, Hot Rod didn’t impress easily but he’d love the opportunity to meet that pilot. Maybe share some tips and tales of piloting adventures over some bootleg engex. Anyone who could fly like that was alright in his book! 

Sensing victory slipping through his iron fist, Megaton abandoned his pursuit in favor of destroying the entire asteroid field. Cluster bombs fanned out from the Nemesis. The exploding space rocks hurled deadly shrapnel at Autobot and Decepticon alike, wreaking havoc on both ships. Damaged by asteroid fragments and out of places to hide, their luck finally ran out. No amount of piloting skill could save them from the Nemesis’ direct assault. Megatron began an intense barrage, firing every weapon at his disposal at their hobbled transport. 

When Optimus gave the order to abandon ship, Hot Rod knew he was only delaying the inevitable. Megatron would destroy their large transport first and then hunt down the small escape shuttles one by one. That is, if he could find them! 

Hot Rod grinned as he continued his daring charge through the dying ship. Already making sure that everyone else had escaped, Hot Rod rushed out of his assigned shuttle before the hatch door sealed to stay behind. He didn’t like pulling out of Kup’s grasp like that or hearing the desperation in his gruff voice, but Hot Rod knew what needed done. No matter what anyone else thought about him being too reckless or too unfocused, he actually had a plan. He could put the sabotage skills he acquired through the long years of waging a guerilla war against Sentinel in the ruins of Nyon to good use. This time he would save everyone. No more sacrificing friends to achieve an empty victory. 

Like all Cybertronian vessels, their transport relied on a complex navigational system to find their way across the vastness of space as well as track nearby ships. If he could reverse the magnetic flow in the navicomp system and detonate it, the resulting magnetic pulse would disable all Cybertronian navigation and tracking systems in the area. Pushing their engines to the limit, the small Autobot escape shuttles should have already escaped the blast radius, but the Nemesis would take the pulse wave point blank. Given its immense size, Megatron’s warworld would be unable to move until they recalibrated their systems, which would take days. By that time all the Autobot survivors will have met at the rendezvous point and continued to their new secret base unharmed. 

Another blast threw Hot Rod across the room. He slammed hard into the adjacent wall. Ignoring a few painful new dents, he scrambled to his feet and rushed onward. The navigational systems equipment room was right around the corner. He had to hurry! 

Skidding around the last bend, Hot Rod faltered. The door to the navicomp room swung wide open. Usually areas housing machines vital to the ship’s operations were sealed and accessible only to command staff. Hot Rod had come fully prepared to melt the door down. He shrugged and pressed on, chalking it up as a bit of good luck. 

He burst into the room and crashed into a solid object. Falling backwards and landing on his aft, Hot Rod heard a ridiculous yelp of surprise. 

“Hot Rod?!” 

Hot Rod scrambled to his feet as his optics reset. Focusing on the large colorful source of his latest dents, his plating bristled. 

“Thunderclash?!” he growled. 

They stared at each in complete shock for a split second before simultaneously blurting out, “What are you doing here??!!” 

“Why didn’t you follow the order to evacuate?!” Thunderclash gasped, his optics wide with concern. He recovered from his initial shock and resumed pulling colored wires through the open panels of the navicomp control module. 

“Why- why didn’t I-?” Hot Rod sputtered. He nudged Thunderclash aside and tugged the pink wire free of the bundle and chased it down towards the base of the module. “Why didn’t YOU?!” 

“Because I’m the pilot!” Thunderclash shouted in exasperation. “Someone had to hold the ship steady as the shuttles escaped.” 

Hot Rod froze and stared at the big bot. All the admiration he felt for their pilot evaporated, burned to steam in a flash of jealous rage. Everyone loved Thunderclash. Hot Rod chafed to think of all the times he heard people sing his praises. Even Kup was a fan for frag’s sake! What did he ever do that was so great?? Get shot and not die?! Big fraggin’ deal. 

“For your information,” Hot Rod snarled, snatching a purple wire from Thunderclash’s hands, “I stayed to blow the navicomp and disable the Nemesis’ navigation and tracking systems, stopping them dead in their tracks while the other escape safely.” 

“That’s what _I’m_ doing!” Thunderclash shouted. He easily pulled down the magnetic control panel that loomed high above Hot Rod’s head. He would have never been able to reach it alone. “There’s one escape shuttle left. Please go and take it while you still can.” 

“What?! And leave you here to be a big fat hero all by yourself?! No way!!” Hot Rod crouched down and wriggled into a tiny access panel at the bottom of the control module. He found the electronic pulse generator and tugged it free of its housing. Thunderclash could have never removed this sensitive piece without damaging the surrounding mechanism. They needed both parts and the navicomp intact in order to reverse the generation flow and route it through the magnetic controls. 

“I’ll finish rewiring the navicomp.” Thunderclash snatched the electronic pulse generator from Hot Rod's hands. He quickly flipped it over and popped the safety cover off. “Please. Please take shuttle and leave now. Once this thing fires, it will fry the shuttle's navigation system too.” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?!” Hot Rod scoffed as he connected the wires that he snatched off Thunderclash earlier directly to the magnetic controls. 

“I am _trying_ to protect you!” Thunderclash shouted over the din of destruction rumbling in the background. He switched the input and output wires on the pulse generator. 

“I don’t need your protection!” Hot Rod growled. His plating bristled and flames licked at his spoiler. He was small. So what? Why did everyone write him off as a wayward sparkling in need of protection? What did he have to do to prove himself? Wasn’t leading an armed resistance that culminated with him burning his own city to ashes enough?! When would it be enough?! 

Hot Rod seethed, using his anger to fuel his fire. He heated his fingers, soldering the wires in place. The machine hummed to life. 

“I didn’t mean to imply that you did. It’s just- it doesn’t matter what happens to me,” Thunderclash flipped the generator over and all the lights flashed. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Hot Rod shouted over another explosion. “You think you’re better than me or something?” 

“What?! Oh my gosh! NO!! I- I just don’t like to see anyone get hurt. I apologize.” Thunderclash flipped all the initialization switches. 

“Whatever.” Hot Rod glared at the colorful transport. His plating twitched. He wanted to argue, but he never expected the stupid jerk to apologize. Worst of all, Thunderclash seemed sincere. Normally he had to fight for every single scrap of respect from Autobot high command. So many of them thought of him as too reckless or insubordinate to take him seriously. He wasn’t sure if Thunderclash was teasing him. Hot Rod decided to simply focus on the sabotage. “Is your part of the wiring ready?” 

“Yeah. Thank Primus! We're running out of time! Activate the system on 3. Ready? 1. 2. 3!” 

Hot Rod and Thunderclash powered up their respective parts of the reversed navicomp system simultaneously. The machine whirred to life. Humming louder and louder, the parts strained against their designated flow. As the cacophony reached its crescendo, the atmosphere tingled with electricity. 

FWHOOOMP!! 

A flash of intense light so white it was almost blue momentarily blinded Hot Rod. He reset his optics several times to find the entire navicomp module smoking from a dozen small fires. 

“Think it worked?” Hot Rod asked. When Thunderclash didn’t immediately respond he turned to find the big bot leaning heavily against the back wall, gripping the door jamb hard enough to leave dents. 

“Yep. Totally.” Came the short, clipped reply. 

“Hey? Are you okay?” Hot Rod furrowed his brow. Although the detonating the navicomp generated an extreme magnetic pulse, it shouldn’t affect any normal functioning Cybertronian. The electronic frequency fell well below the spinning of the average healthy spark. Hot Rod didn’t feel a thing. 

“Never better.” Thunderclash offered a shaky smile that didn’t quite reach his optics. 

Hot Rod glared at him. He recognized that expression. Trying to mask intense pain behind a false smile. He sees it staring back at himself every time he looks in a mirror. 

“Okaaaay.” Hot Rod drew out his response to signify that he didn’t believe Thunderclash for a second. If the big idiot wanted to keep secrets, that was his problem. “If it worked, then we probably only have a few seconds before Megatron realizes what we did. We need to move! NOW!!” 

Hot Rod leapt across the room and shoved Thunderclash towards the door. 

“Why?” Thunderclash stumbled as Hot Rod continued to push him along with all his might. 

“Aside from the fact that our ship has been pounded by Decepticon missiles for that last half hour?!?!” Hot Rod snapped, really putting his back into getting the big bot moving. “Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because we’ve personally robbed Megatron of a decisive victory. The magnetic pulse that disabled his navigation and tracking systems could have only come from this ship. Once he puts the pieces together, he’s going to be so indescribably, monumentally, super-omega hacked off!” 

An extreme volley of explosions tore through the far end of their ship as if to illustrate Hot Rod's point. The doomed vessel listed hard, sending them tumbling down the long hall. The fraggin’ gravity generator was still humming along at full strength. Hot Rod easily recovered, landing on his feet while Thunderclash fell hard. 

“I’m only slowing you down. Go on without me,” Thunderclash huffed, barely audible over the renewed bombardment. 

“Yeah right!” Hot Rod snapped, roughly yanking the big bot to his feet. He stayed behind to save everyone else and, as a bonus, earn some respect. All that went out the window if he left Thunderclash behind. “And go down in history as the bot who got the beloved Thunderclash killed?! I don’t think so! Now, move it!!” 

“Beloved?! By who?? No one even-” Thunderclash stopped short, interrupted by a low groan vibrating under their feet. It grew louder and louder while the tremors intensified. He caught Hot Rod's gaze with wide optics. “The ship is ripping in half!!” 

Instead of arguing any further, Thunderclash leapt up, tucked Hot Rod under one arm and ran faster than the speedster thought possible.


	2. I'm a Pilot!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the transport ship explodes around them, Hot Rod and Thunderclash argue about who should pilot the last shuttle. Their tentative truce doesn't last long because a ship full of angry Decepticons is right on their tail!
> 
> The adventure continues!!

Unceremoniously scooped up and toted along like a sack of empty energon cubes, Hot Rod's circuits froze. Thunderclash picked him up?! And carried him?! Like some kind of wayward sparkling?!?! He was so stunned that he couldn’t speak. His momentary shock quickly burned away into indignant rage. 

“Put- put me down!” He stammered, so angry he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Flames licked at his spoiler. He wriggled wildly in Thunderclash's grasp. 

“No time!” Thunderclash tightened his grip on the thrashing speedster. “We’re almost there!” 

“I said,” Hot Rod seethed. “PUT. ME. **DOWN**!!” He punctuated the last word with a flash of blistering fire across his entire frame. 

“YEE-OUCH!” Thunderclash dropped him, shaking his singed fingers. 

“DON’T touch me again!” Hot Rod growled. He stood on his tiptoes to jab a scorching finger at Thunderclash’s chest plate, leaving a black burn on his pearlescent topcoat. His dignity impugned, Hot Rod turned and ran towards the last escape shuttle not caring if Thunderclash followed or not. Heroically saving everyone was turning out to be a lot more trouble than he anticipated. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Thunderclash held up his hands. Much to Hot Rod’s chagrin he trotted along right behind him. His long loping strides easily kept pace with Hot Rod’s sprint. “That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I’ll admit, I panicked. The ship is breaking apart and we need to escape. Since there’s only one shuttle left, I didn’t want to lose you in the chaos.” 

“I can take care of myself!” Hot Rod growled. 

“I never said that you couldn’t.” 

“Whatever.” 

Arriving at the shuttle, Hot Rod opened the access door and hopped aboard. To his surprise, Thunderclash rushed past him and flung himself into the pilot’s seat. The big bot ran a finger along the control panel, flipping the entire line of ignition sequence switches in one fluid motion. If Hot Rod wasn’t so incredibly angry, he might have admitted that move looked pretty cool. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Hot Rod sealed the access door and spun around. 

“I’m a pilot. I’m going to... pilot?” Thunderclash waved his hands vaguely over the control panel as the shuttle’s engines fired. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Hot Rod snapped. He vaulted across the shuttle, landing in the co-pilot's seat. “I’m a pilot too. I’ll fly.” 

“I’m sure you’re an excellent pilot-” 

Hot Rod bristled. Is Thunderclash condescending to his skills? He already helped him rewire the navicomp and save the rest of their crew from the Nemesis’ overwhelming firepower. What else did he possibly need to do to prove himself?! 

“-but when we sabotaged the navicomp, it blew the shuttle’s navigation system too. We’ll have to manually figure out our flight coordinates.” 

“So?! You navigate. I’ll pilot.” Hot Rod disengaged the stability locks keeping the shuttle tethered to their doomed transport. They floated free of the destruction just as an inferno engulfed the docking bay. 

“I can’t! I can fly alright, but I’m a scrap navigator. All the maps, angles, and trajectories confuse me to no end! Without the navicomp telling me where to go, I'll get lost!” Thunderclash shouted, desperation raising the pitch of his voice. The shuttle rocked violently in the turbulence. 

“You’re the greatest Autobot of all time! Figure it out!” Hot Rod threw the lever in the center console transferring the shuttle’s controls to the co-pilot's seat. He tensed, expecting Thunderclash to forcefully fight for control of the shuttle. Instead, the big bot instantly acquiesced and leapt for the navigator’s desk. 

“UGH! FINE! Just get us out of here before we blow up!” Thunderclash opened the star charts and stared intently at all the interlocking lines. “I’ll do my best.” 

Hot Rod grinned. Finally! He gunned the engines and they raced away from the sprawling debris field that was once their transport, savoring the rush of freedom he always felt behind the controls on a spacecraft. He expertly dodged around the larger chunks, trying to keep most of the debris between them and the Nemesis. If they could remain hidden long enough, they might be able to slip away unnoticed. 

“We need to make for the rendezvous point. Give me a heading.” Hot Rod commanded through clenched teeth. Without the navicomp to level the shuttle on a set trajectory, it wandered all over the place. He had to manually hold it on their desired path, but he had no idea which direction to go. In deep space, even the slightest navigation error could send you light-years off course. 

“I’m working on it,” Thunderclash muttered. 

Scattered cannon fire erupted around them. 

“Work FASTER!” Hot Rod yelled, wrenching the shuttle into a series of evasive maneuvers. Although the Nemesis couldn’t get a lock on them, they could fire wildly in their general direction and hope to score a lucky hit. Now that they’ve been sighted, Megatron would surely send smaller pursuit ships. If they got close enough, they would simply aim their weapons the old-fashioned way, by sight. Either way, they’d be just as dead. 

“I'm trying!” Thunderclash snapped. He shuffled the charts and datapads, scattering them in all directions. “All these lines and numbers might as well be in old Cybertronian.” 

“Come on! Navigating is easy!” Hot Rod yelled. The cannon fire stopped, which meant they could expect company at any moment. 

“Maybe for YOU!” 

“For everyone!” 

“NOT for ME!! That’s why I wanted to fly! I know you could figure out this mess!” 

“You said you’d do your best!” 

“Yeah, well, like always, my best is not enough!” Thunderclash shouted. 

Hot Rod’s tetchy retort died in his throat. The shocking bitterness of that statement lingered in the following silence. Everyone loved Thunderclash. Why would he ever feel like he’s “not enough”? 

BOOOOM!! 

Before he could respond, and explosion threw them both from their seats. Alarm klaxons blared and red emergency lights flashed. 

“Oh, frag it all!” Hot Rot grumbled. He scrambled back to the control panel and tugged hard on the shuttle’s yoke. It fought him for every inch. 

Since they burned out their own tracking systems with the magnetic pulse, they didn’t notice the incoming ship. Thunderclash ran to the window and scanned the sky. 

“There!” He pointed. “We’ve got incoming on the port side!” 

Hot Rod cast a glance in that direction. A single Decepticon pursuit ship banked hard, coming about for another pass. 

“Make for that planet!” Thunderclash pointed to a hazy amber orb that swirled slowly beneath them. 

“Thanks, navigator!” Hot Rod spat with blistering animosity. He threw all his slight weight against the controls. The shuttle sluggishly responded, slowly angling towards the atmosphere. 

Thunderclash muttered something unintelligible. 

“What??” 

“I said, that hit fried the power converters. The hydraulic systems won’t work without the power converters. Steering is going to get harder and harder.” 

“You think?!” Hot Rod groaned through clenched teeth. Without the mechanical advantage provided by the complex hydraulics, it took all his strength to control the shuttle. 

“Power converter repairs require the ship to be fully powered down. We can’t fix them while in flight. If we put down on that planet, we can hopefully make repairs and be on our way.” Thunderclash continued, either oblivious to or outright ignoring Hot Rod’s caustic attitude. 

“Yeah. AND if the Decepticons don’t find us first!” 

“Right. So, choosing a landing spot is crucial to our survival.” Thunderclash tentatively took the pilot’s seat once again. He switched the controls into dual mode, allowing them both to have equal control of the ship. “Landing on an alien planet is difficult _with_ a fully operational ship. Please, let me help.” 

Hot Rod wanted desperately to protest, to say that he didn’t need any help, that he could do it all alone, but his struts were already nearing the breaking point. Even with his systems pushed past the maximum limits, he barely held the shuttle under control. His head bobbed a reluctant nod and Thunderclash gripped the yoke. Steering became so much easier as soon as Thunderclash lent his great strength to the cause. 

Together they wrangled the unruly shuttle through the atmospheric entry. When they dropped below the scattered cloud cover, Hot Rod quickly scanned for a site large enough to land but with ample shelter hide from the Decepticons. They needed to get out of sight as quickly as possible. Without operational tracking systems, once the Decepticons lost visual, they effectively became invisible. 

“THERE!” Hot Rod pointed to a jagged sandstone formation. The golden hue of their shuttle would blend in with the surrounding rocks and the intense shadows would provide additional cover. 

“Got it!” Thunderclash banked the shuttle hard without deploying the landing flaps. 

They only had a few seconds before the Decepticons followed them to the surface. Slowing down to a safe descent velocity was not an option. 

“We’re coming in hot. Grab the survival kit and emergency communications module. If we can’t land safely, I’ll give you the signal. You can jump out and call for help.” 

“What about you?” Hot Rod spared a shocked glance towards his colorful companion. 

“It doesn’t matter. Plus, if the Decepticons see the smoking wreckage, they’ll leave. You’ll be safe.” 

“And you’ll be dead. Hell no!” No way he was letting Thunderclash go out in a blaze of heroic glory on his watch. When the Autobots came to pick him up, all anyone would talk about was Thunderclash’s selfless sacrifice. He’d never live it down. 

“But-” 

“But nothing!” Hot Rod gripped the controls, helping Thunderclash steer the shuttle to their chosen landing site. “If you want to keep me safe, fraggin’ land properly.” 

“FINE!” 

The shuttle shook with the strain of rapidly decreasing altitude. It took all their combined strength to maneuver the thing into a moderately safe landing pattern at cruising speed. They touched down and the shuttle bounced a few times, kicking up clouds of dust. Jamming on the brakes, they skidded to a stop in the concealing shadow of a huge rock formation. Still in one piece! 

Hot Rod chuckled to himself. Landing a damaged shuttle at full speed on the unknown terrain of an alien world while desperately ducking enemy pursuit?! Now THAT took skills! He briefly recalled his initial admiration of Thunderclash’s piloting, from before he knew his identity. Hot Rod supposed that he could be a decent pilot and still be fantastically overrated in general. 

As soon as the shuttle slid to a complete stop, Thunderclash slumped over in relief and Hot Rod bounced to his feet. 

“That was radical!” Tiny flames flashed along Hot Rod’s spoiler. 

“I suppose that’s definitely ONE word for it,” Thunderclash groaned, resting his helm on the control panel. “Now we just have to sit tight and hope the Decepticons don’t find us.” 

Excited to be the first to explore an alien world, Hot Rod leapt for the door. Unsealing the airlock, he stepped out onto the soft red dust. It swirled delicately around his feet. He laughed, entranced by the simple natural wonder after a long high-octane battle for survival. 

Careful to stay in the shadows, Hot Rod scanned the horizon. He longed to shift into his speedster alt mode and spin a few righteous donuts in the loose gravel. 

The orange dust cloud kicked up by their rough landing hung lazily in the air. Hot Rod wished he could do something to make it blow away. If the Decepticons flew past now, they would surely notice the tell-tale sign of their location. 

As if conjured directly from his mind, at that moment the Decepticon pursuit plane dipped below the scattered clouds. Hot Rod crouched under their damaged shuttle. The Decepticons made a few slow passes over the expansive desert, bobbing in and around the towering rock formations. Hot Rod tensed. They didn’t come so far to get spotted now! 

The deep purple paintwork on the Decepticon vessel shimmered like a wandering nightmare above the golden orange stone of the alien desert. Despite the heat, Hot Rod shivered. He liked to face his problems head on, hiding and waiting made him twitchy. It reminded him of all the citizens of Nyon, praying for protection that never came, huddling together for comfort until he burned them all to dust. 

Just when he thought they were in the clear, the Decepticon ship banked right toward their lingering dust cloud. Hot Rod yelped, shrinking lower. The ship hung almost directly above them and Hot Rod prayed that the darkness of the shadow would conceal them. After a few seconds that seem to drag like an eternity, the ship slowed banked away. 

Hot Rod vented a sigh of relief. 

As he rose to his feet, his grin died on his lips. His audials detected the distinctive firing of landing thrusters right around the ridge of the rock formation. The Decepticons had spotted them.


	3. Good News and Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded in the middle of an alien desert with a broken shuttle, Hot Rod and Thunderclash's arguing reaches a crescendo. A shocking revelation begins their tentative progress towards mutual understanding cooperation. But with the Decepticons closing in, has their time run out?!

Hot Rod bolted for the shuttle only slam into Thunderclash... again. The big bot wobbled, nearly falling over. Hot Rod shook his head. Getting knocked around all day must have damaged his optics. Thunderclash’s normally obnoxious rainbow paintwork looked a little dull. 

“I have good news and bad news,” Thunderclash sighed. He wiped smudges of soot from his massive cobalt hands with a rag. 

“Me too!” Hot Rod yelped. He technically didn’t have any GOOD news, but he wasn’t about to be outdone by Thunderclash. 

“You go first.” 

“Nope! After you! I insist!” Hot Rod had no idea what Thunderclash had to say but it likely couldn’t compare to ‘we’re about to be captured by Decepticons.’ 

“Well...” Thunderclash leaned heavily against the shuttle. It creaked under his weight. “The good news is: The ONLY part to sustain serious damage was the power converters.” 

“What’s the bad news?” 

“They are damaged beyond repair and we don’t have any spares.” 

“I thought every Autobot shuttle had a repair kit filled with spare parts?” Hot Rod asked. They had to figure this situation out. He was NOT getting taken prisoner with Thunderclash. All the Decepticons would probably fall in love with him too. Trapped in a cell with Thunderclash while their captors extolled the big idiot’s virtues would be cruel and unusual punishment. 

“They do. For some reason ours is missing the power convertors. Honestly, it’s not surprising. Wheeljack is notorious for pilfering spare parts for secret experiments.” Thunderclash shrugged with an odd air of resignation. “What’s your news?” 

“Weeeell...” Hot Rod hunched his shoulders. His bad news only made Thunders’ bad news worse. Or did it?? An idea born of the streets of Nyon flashed into his mind. When some else has what you need, you take it! Half of a plan came together in his brain. “Okay! Promise not to freak out?” 

“Fine.” Thunderclash offered a noncommittal half smile. 

“The bad news is: The Decepticons have totally found us and landed their ship on the other side of this cliff. They’ll be here any minute.” 

“WH- WHAT?!?!” 

“Hey!” Hot Rod folded his arms and glared. “You promised not to freak out!” 

“Okay! Okay! Sorry! That’s pretty bad though,” Thunderclash answered in a voice pitched a little too high. He threw his hands up in the air. “I guess it can’t get any worse! What’s the good news?” 

“The good news is,” Hot Rod’s face curled into a sly grin, “ _they_ have power converters! I can swipe the ones in their spare parts kit or take them directly off their ship! Wham! Bam! In the van! We’re on our way!!” 

“Sneak onto the Decepticons’ ship?! And steal their power converters?!” Thunderclash gasped. 

Hot Rod folded his arms and braced himself for the moral haranguing. Hung up on their rigid ideals of virtue, few other Autobots understood thievery as a necessary part of survival. He bristled, waiting for the condemnation of his idea as reckless or immoral. 

“That’s a really good idea!” Thunderclash nodded slowly. “They are the ones who broke ours in the first place, so it’s only fair.” 

Hot Rod’s jaw dropped. 

“We don’t have much time. We need a plan.” Thunderclash started pacing. “I’ll stay here and distract them. You sneak onto their ship while they’re busy and grab the parts.” 

“Whoa! Wait a fraggin’ second!” Hot Rod’s spoiler flared. “You’re not staying behind to play martyr by yourself!” 

“I’m not playing at anything! It’s the best way!” Thunderclash argued. “You need time when they’re not around! And, no offense, but I’m better suited for fisticuffs.” 

“No way! We both fight them. And when they’re offline- BOOM! No more problem!” Hot Rod growled. He couldn’t believe it. Thunderclash still refused to acknowledge his worth as an equal. He could fight too! True, he may not be the biggest or strongest bot in the battle, but he knew every dirty trick in the book. 

“Absolutely not!” Thunderclash yelled. He swung one arm through the air as if to cut down Hot Rod’s idea. “We don’t know what to expect. We’ll likely be outnumbered. Definitely outgunned. They are expecting to find someone. If we lean into their expectations, they won’t look for anyone else. I’ll distract them so you’ll have plenty of time to get in and get out safely.” 

“Worried about MY safety again,” Hot Rod scoffed. He rolled his optics. The hero complex was really getting old. “Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself. I’m not entirely convinced that I can say the same about you! What about YOUR safety??” 

“It doesn’t matter-” 

“Don’t give me that scrap,” Hot Rod muttered. 

“It’s not-” 

“EVERYONE MATTERS!!” Hot Rod screamed. 

“BECAUSE I’M DYING!” Thunderclash yelled. 

Hot Rod jerked like Thunderclash’s shout physically struck him. Thunderclash’s optics went wide, shocking himself by uttering those words out loud. 

“Wh- what?” Hot Rod narrowed his optics. He shook his head. That couldn’t be true. The dull appearance of Thunderclash’s obnoxiously bright colors had to be a trick of the alien light. He couldn’t really be… dying? 

“I said, I’m dying. Full on, actively dying,” Thunderclash reset his vocalizer. His bulky shoulders slumped and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his helm. He winced. “Sorry for yelling.” 

“Not’s not true. It can’t be. Everyone knows that you survived that shot to the chest.” 

“Everyone knows wrong. Or only tells part of the story. I survived that shot but have been dying every day since.” Thunderclash sat slowly in the dust and leaned against the shuttle, staring at an unknown point on the horizon. He spoke carefully, like reciting a long-rehearsed but never-delivered speech. “The only reason that I’m here today at all is because Ratchet is some kind of medical magician. He operated for hours. I don’t really know what he did, but it only delayed the inevitable.” He absentmindedly rubbed his chest. 

Hot Rod suddenly felt a pang of guilt about the black scorch mark he left on Thunderclash’s pearlescent topcoat. 

“But- but you were shot a long time ago. Why now?” Hot Rod struggled to make sense of Thunderclash’s revelation. He still couldn’t believe it. Maybe he heard it wrong? 

“The shot damaged my spark beyond repair. Despite all Ratchet’s research and experiments, my spark is constantly shrinking. If I don’t spend several hours a day inside a spark stabilization chamber, my spark will slow until it flickers and gives out. It's been too long since my last treatment and the shuttle only has a first aid kit. As my condition progresses, my pain will increase from its normal 'tolerable' to 'debilitating.’ I’m already on borrowed time.” 

Hot Rod sat next to Thunderclash and hugged his knees to his chest. Thunderclash appeared healthy, but… he’s dying?! Is that why he thought his life didn’t matter? Or that his best was never enough? And the comment about his pain levels? Had the big idiot been hurting this entire time?! Why didn’t he ever say anything?? True, he’s no medic, but Hot Rod could have done _something_ to help. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hot Rod muttered. 

“Life seldom does.” 

They spent a few moments in an uneasy silence, both trying to come to terms with Thunderclash’s sudden revelation. 

Before Hot Rod could figure out what to say, a dual voice roared in stereo across the canyon. 

“HEY!! OVER HERE!! I heard bickering!!” 

Hot Rod and Thunderclash locked optics. They were out of time. The Decepticons had found them! 

“I know that voice!” Thunderclash hissed. His magenta optics went wide. “Sinnertwin! Sweet Solus Prime!! Megatron sent the Terrorcons! You were right, he is exceedingly, supremely angry.” 

"I don’t care who they are!” Hot Rod hopped to his feet and shifted into a defensive fighting stance. Flames licked his fists. “We can take’em!” 

“No. We can’t. I only fought them once, before I was injured. I wouldn’t have survived that encounter if it wasn’t for the Aerialbots’ strategic airstrike clearing an escape route.” Thunderclash struggled to his feet. He staggered a few steps from the shuttle, scanning their surroundings. “There’s five of them and they do everything together, preferring to attack in their huge monstrous alt modes. Whether it’s some medical condition or the result of Shockwave’s experiments, they are never satisfied with any amount of energon. Hot Rod, they don’t take prisoners, they _eat_ them.” 

“Eat?! As in- EAT?!” Hot Rod stammered in disbelief. His bravado faltered for a second. But only a second. He didn’t make all those sacrifices to end his life eaten by a hungry monster. If anything, his plans involved going out in a blaze of glory, not as an appetizer. He stoked his flames hotter. “Whatever! Doesn’t matter! Because they're not gonna eat me!” 

“You got that right!” Thunderclash’s dull plating went stiff. His face set like flint. He laid a heavy hand on Hot Rod’s shoulder. “You NEED to survive, Hot Rod. YOU are so important. As a soldier. As a leader. As a person. Never let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” 

“That’s…” Hot Rod trailed off. All I ever wanted to hear? The validation I’ve been searching for? The respect that I deserve? Hot Rod struggled to find the words to respond. Although he wanted to contradict Thunderclash on principle, he couldn’t argue with words that he had longed to hear. 

“Wait a minute... why are you telling me this stuff?” Hot Rod shrugged off Thunderclash’s hand and narrowed his optics. Thunderclash’s melancholy air of finality made his spoiler twitch. 

"Because it’s true.” Thunderclash rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “I’ve always admired your bravery. If my death means your survival, then at least it will have meant something.” 

“Cut the scrap,” Hot Rod muttered lamely. Thunderclash admired him?! Since when?? 

“I hope one day that you’ll find it in your spark to forgive me,” Thunderclash offered a sad smile. 

"Forgive you? For what?!” Hot Rod eyed Thunderclash suspiciously. 

Heavy footsteps shook the earth. Loose boulders tumbled down from the cliff face. The subtle screech of large joints caked with dust and low rumbling growls heralded the Terrorcons’ imminent arrival. 

“For this!” Thunderclash lunged forward and grabbed Hot Rod. 

In one fluid motion he shifted his considerable weight back and flung the small speedster up towards the top of the cliff with all his might. Hot Rod was so stunned he didn’t even cry out. That idiot picked him up again!! AND THREW HIM!!! 

Propelled by Thunderclash’s forceful throw, Hot Rod sailed through the air, all the way to the top of the rock formation. Unprepared for his sudden flight, Hot Rod cleared the top of the ridge and hit the ground hard. The right half of his spoiler crumpled on impact. He rolled along the solid rock of the cliff’s summit, skidding to a halt in a patch of red sand. Ignoring the pain, his flames flared in hot anger, instantly melting the sand into liquid glass. 

He clenched his fists and scrambled to the edge of the cliff. Peering down over the edge of the precipice, he caught Thunderclash's optics. Furious, Hot Rod opened his mouth to shout a creative string of expletives when Thunderclash quieted him with the slightest shake of his helm. The big bot gave him a look that pleaded with him for once not to argue. 

“THERE HE IS! GRAB THAT AUTOBOT!!” 

A massive golden beast loped around the rock formation and charged Thunderclash. His two draconic heads roared, baring rows of savage fangs. Violet spines studded his entire frame and dual barbed tails thrashed in unison. That must be Sinnertwin. Primus! He was huge. A single bite from one of his heads would snap Hot Rod clean in half. And Thunderclash said there were five of them?! 

Hot Rod clamped his hands over his mouth and crouched low, flattening himself against the red rocks. Ashamed of the fear that flashed through his systems, Hot Rod willed his whirling vent fans to slow. The bravest part of him wanted to dive off the cliff and fight side by side with Thunderclash. The petty part thought that if Thunderclash was so keen to sacrifice himself, maybe Hot Rod should let him. 

“I’d like to see you try!” Thunderclash laughed. He drew his sidearm and fired a shot at one of Sinnertwin’s faces. The blaster bolt bounced harmlessly off his armored snout. 

A slightly smaller but much faster blue Terrorcon with a quadruped shark alt mod skidded around the bend and launched himself at Thunderclash. His powerful jaws crunched down on Thunderclash’s gun. To Hot Rod’s horror, he then chewed and swallowed the weapon. The screech of grinding metal rent the air. 

“Wow! He’s a big one! We’re gonna eat good tonight! The sooner we drag his chassis back to Hun-Garr, the sooner it’s dinner time!!” Another purple reptilian lumbered around the corner. Mercifully this one only had one head, but his jaws dripped neon green acid. Rocks melted and smoked everywhere the acid droplets struck. 

“I’m not on the menu yet!” Thunderclash grinned as he landed a staggering blow on one of Sinnertwin's heads. The golden monster growled and spat out a cracked fang. 

A dark shadow briefly blocked the bright sun. Hot Rod's optics widened, and he scrambled for cover under a low overhang. He didn’t know they had a flier in their ranks! 

Peering over the edge again, it took everything he had to keep from leaping into the fray. Against all odds, Thunderclash was holding his own. He shifted his weight lightly on his feet, waiting for the Terrorcons to come too close then knocking them back with a flurry of devastating punches. Although impressive, he couldn’t keep this pace up for long. Especially with his deteriorating health. 

Hot Rod opened his mouth to warn him about the circling flier. Thunderclash must have sensed his intentions. The big idiot looked up directly into his optics, flashed the most charming smile that Hot Rod had ever seen and winked. 

How dare he!! Hot Rod’s flames scorched his hiding spot black. 

In the precious seconds the Thunderclash’s ludicrous wink distracted him, the winged pink and teal dragon dove out of the sky and slammed claws first into Thunderclash’s back, knocking him roughly to his knees. 

With the sickening crunch of buckling armor resounding in his audials, Hot Rod scrambled to his feet. Tempering his fire, Hot Rod steeled himself. He knew what he had to do, even if it would be the toughest thing he’s faced since incinerating his own city.


	4. Two Halves of a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Thunderclash sacrifices himself to distract the Terrorcons, Hot Rod sets his half of the plan in motion. One that involves stealing the parts they need AND rescuing Thunderclash!
> 
> No one is going to out-hero Hot Rod!!

Despite every circuit in his system screaming at him to the contrary, Hot Rod clenched his fists and turned his back on Thunderclash and the Terrorcons. Although Thunderclash never cried out, the metallic shrieking and loud crunches made the fuel churn in his tanks. 

He hated leaving stupid Thunderclash behind. He hated Thunderclash’s stupid plan. But most of all, he hated Thunderclash’s stupid smile. He refused to even acknowledge the stupid wink. 

Hot Rod dashed over the tumbled rock formation, scrambling across the scree towards the Decepticon vessel. After fighting to prove that he could be a hero on his own all day, Hot Rod realized that maybe neither one of them could pull this off alone. No matter how much he hated to admit it, he wouldn’t survive a fight with the Terrorcons. But by the same token, Thunderclash couldn’t sneak on to their ship and steal their spare parts. The only way for this plan to work out, was to trust each other. After all, if they each had half a plan, it added up to one full plan. The math checked out. 

His mind raced, running through a variety of details. He prayed that he got them all right. He guiltily wished that he spent a little less time arguing and a little more time listening. 

Thunderclash said there were five Terrorcons, but only four attacked him. One must have stayed behind to guard their ship. The purple acid-spitter mentioned dragging Thunderclash “back to Hun-Garr.” Meaning, they should keep him alive until they got him back to their ship so all five could share a wonderfully charming supper. Hot Rod shuddered at the thought. Knowing Thunderclash and his extreme martyr complex, he would fight the Terroncons every step of the way to give Hot Rod the most time possible to steal their power convertors. 

That’s where Thunderclash’s part of the plan ended, with him serving as the Terrorcons’ dinner buffet. Thunderclash had already enacted his heroic plan to save Hot Rod by flinging him out of the reach of the Terrorcons. Regardless of Thunderclash’s terminal health issues and insistence that his life didn’t matter, Hot Rod refused to abandon him. The tenuous threads of a plan to save the big idiot came together in his mind. It picked up right where Thunderclash’s part left off. Hot Rod grinned and leapt into action. He was done with pointless sacrifices. 

Spotting the dark silhouette of the Decepticon ship up ahead, Hot Rod turned aside. He frantically searched for a relatively unstable rock tower. Seeing one a suitable distance away from both of their ships, a thrill ran through his circuits. Hot Rod ran up to it and placed several plasma charges like the ones he used to destroy Nyon. Since that day, he always kept a few on his person. You never know when the need to blow something up might arise. No one can resist looking at an explosion. 

Satisfied with his impromptu sabotage, Hot Rod wired the detonator and hurried towards the Decepticon ship. 

Sure enough, the fifth Terrorcon remained behind. A massive two-headed silver saurian slumbered outside the ship. The intense sun flashed on his barbed armor. Sword-like fangs jutted from both mouths. A single powerful tail curled around his huge frame. Hot Rod’s optics widened. If Sinnertwin was big enough to snap him in two, Hun-Garr could swallow him whole. 

HIs mind started to wander, imagining what it would be like to be swallowed alive. He quickly stomped down that train of thought when his fuel tanks threatened to purge. 

Reminding himself that he had to move fast to save Thunderclash from becoming tonight’s heroic entree, Hot Rod silently snuck past the snoozing giant. Once aboard the Decepticon ship, he quickly located their spare parts. Sure enough, they had several power converters. He swiped them all. 

On a hunch, he searched around for their medical supplies, hoping for something to help Thunderclash. His spoiler drooped upon discovering only a first aid kit much like their own. Refusing to give up, he continued to rummage through the rest of their supplies. His persistence paid off when he discovered an external spark defibrillator. Although a spark stabilization chamber provided Thunderclash’s spark with low consistence voltage versus the extreme shock this machine created, he might be able to modify it. Surviving on scant supplies in Nyon taught him the necessity of finding creative solutions. 

Gathering his stolen goods, Hot Rod slipped back off the ship just in the nick of time. Diving out a small escape hatch, Hot Rod threw himself into a shallow ditch under the ship’s dark shadow. He ducked down right before four battered Terrorcons limped around the cliff dragging an equally battered Thunderclash. 

Hot Rod grimaced at Thunderclash’s condition. They had bound his arms behind his back. Energon oozed from a deep gash on his side and the pink slick shone against his dented armor. One charred shoulder smoked from an acid bite. Sparks shot out of his left knee with every limping step. Most distressing of all, even in full sunlight, his normally obnoxious rainbow paintwork took on a grayish cast. 

“Hey, boss! Look!!” The blue shark bot called. His fanged grin showed a few missing teeth and his dorsal fin was bent. “We brought dinner!” 

“Dinner?!” Thunderclash gasped, mockingly scandalized. “Rippersnapper! You should have told me that I was invited to dinner! I’d have made energon goodies!” 

Despite all of them sporting damage obviously caused by Thunderclash, the four Terrorcons laughed. 

“You’re alright, Thunders!” The purple acid-spitter cuffed his injured shoulder. Thunderclash shuddered. 

“Thanks, Blot,” Thunderclash grunted through clenched teeth. 

“It almost makes me feel sorry that we have to eat you,” the pink flier said. He rode on Sinnertwin’s back, one dislocated wing hanging at an awkward angle. “It’s nothing personal though. Sorry, but we’re always hungry.” 

Hot Rod rolled his optics. He knew it. Even the Decepticons weren’t immune to Thunderclash’s natural charm. Although they all recently beat the scrap out of each other, they had apparently learned each other’s names and traded banter like old war buddies. Hot Rod shook his head and found a reluctant smile on his face. Stupid Thunderclash. At least it proved the whole charming thing wasn’t an act. 

“Almost,” Sinnertwin growled hungrily. Long sinuous tongues curled out of both of his mouths, licking his broken fangs. “I could never pass up a meal no matter how nice he is!” 

“Enough!” Rudely awoken from his nap, Hun-Garr stretched and rose to his full height, towering over the rest of the Terrorcons. 

Hot Rod shrunk down a little lower. He pulled out his detonator and primed the switch. Now that everyone was gathered in one spot, he needed the right moment. A proper distraction depended on precise timing. 

Hun-Garr lowered both of his heads and narrowed all four optics to stare Thunderclash right in the face. 

“Where are the others?” Hun-Garr growled. 

“What others?” Thunderclash asked a little too innocently. He shifted his gaze from head to head before blurting out, “I’m terribly sorry! I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not sure which head I should be talking to!” 

Hun-Garr snarled. One head whipped angrily around and grabbed Thunderclash’s injured shoulder, his long fangs sinking in with a violent crunch. Hun-Garr easily lifted him off the ground with one head while the other remained directly in front of Thunderclash’s face. 

“Does this make it clear?” 

“Crystal.” Thunderclash offered a clipped reply, wincing as he dangled from the beast’s cruel jaws. The slow screech of distressed metal filled the air as Thunderclash’s considerable weight pulled against his shoulder clenched in Hun-Garr's fangs. 

Hot Rod heard Thunderclash’s vent fans whirl. Thunderclash might be big and strong, but even stupid heroes have their limits. His finger hovered over the button. In order to save Thunderclash, he needed to make sure all the Terrorcons would investigate his explosion. Hot Rod steeled himself to wait for the perfect moment to trigger his distraction. 

“Then, where are your friends?” Hun-Garr snapped. 

“I don’t have any,” Thunderclash answered flatly. 

Something in the delivery of that answer broke Hot Rod’s spark a little. He never considered that the bot everyone idolized was lonely. For some reason, those words ignited his protective streak. He didn’t care what he had to do, he was going to save Thunderclash or die trying. 

“Really?!” The winged one chirped. He shifted on his perch on Sinnertwin’s back, his mangled wing flopping limply with the movement. “That’s terrible! Everyone needs friends. I mean, look at us! We’re all best friends! Even if no one else likes us. Ain’t that right, boss?” 

“That’s right, Cutthroat,” Hun-Garr purred. “If we have friends, you’ve got to have at least one.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Thunderclash hissed through clenched teeth. 

Hun-Garr's jaws bit deeper. Energon ran freely down Thunderclash’s dusty armor, glistening bright pink against his dull paintwork. Sinnertwin bobbed his heads, hungrily watching the energon drip into the dust. Hot Rod fidgeted. Flames licked at his spoiler. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. 

“I don’t buy it. Autobots love friendship and teamwork and all that rust wash. No way you’re here alone. There’s got to be at least one more!” Hun-Garr snarled. His deep crimson optics glowed with malevolent light. 

Thunderclash winced. His armor buckled in Hun-Garr's powerful jaws. 

“Where? Is? He?” Hun-Garr punctuated each word of his question with a squeeze of his teeth. 

Hot Rod flashed a grim smile. This was the moment that he needed! “You wanna know where I am? Come find me!” He muttered to himself as he pressed the detonator switch. 

BOOOOOM!! 

The plasma charges he set earlier tore through the shaky rock formation on the other side of the ridge setting off an avalanche. The rumbling explosion echoed through the surrounding canyons. Debris rained down and dust cloud rose. All optics snapped to that direction. Hot Rod burned with satisfaction at a job well done. No one can resist an explosion. 

“HOT ROD!” Thunderclash gasped. 

“AH HA!” Hun-Garr roared triumphantly. “I knew it! You DO have a friend out there! Hot Rod is it?” 

“Um! NO! I- ah- that's not- what I meant was-” Thunderclash fumbled frantically for an excuse. He thrashed weakly in Hun-Garr's grasp. 

“How big is he? Is he as big as you??” Rippersnapper asked hungrily, wagging his shark tail. 

“Please say that he is!!” Blot salivated, thick green acid dripping from his savage fangs. “I’m so hungry!!” 

“He- he towers over me in every way that matters,” Thunderclash sighed, abandoning his futile attempts lying. He lowered his head and stared at the ground, utterly defeated. 

Hot Rod glared at the big idiot. What was that supposed to mean?! 

“AW YEAH!! We’re eatin’ good tonight! Let’s go get him!!” Sinnertwin’s dual heads roared. “What do we do with Thunders while we’re gone?” 

“Nothing,” Hun-Garr replied with an ominous chuckle. 

He whipped his head down, slamming Thunderclash hard into the ground. With his hands bound, he couldn’t do anything to protect himself. His engine nearly stalled. 

“He’ll stay right where he is if he wants to see his friend one more time before they both die.” Hun-Garr pressed down on Thunderclash’s helm with one of his massive paws, grinding his face into the dust. “Isn’t that right, _Thunders_?” The lead Terrorcon sneered the nickname the others called him like an insult. 

Hot Rod’s temper flared. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. It took all his willpower to force himself to remain hidden. Their two halves of an escape plan were nearly complete. He only needed to hold himself back until the Terrorcons left then he could grab Thunderclash and get out of here. They were so close! 

From his new position sprawled on the ground, Thunderclash was directly facing Hot Rod’s hiding spot. Thunderclash shook his head, his optics flickered from the impact. Below the sight lines of the towering Terrorcons, Hot Rod waved frantically in the shadows trying to silently catch his attention. He couldn’t have Thunderclash ruin his half of the plan for a daring rescue by insisting on playing the martyr. Those magenta optics widened when they met his own blue ones. Hot Rod grinned and cheekily gave Thunderclash two thumbs up. 

“You know,” Thunderclash smiled, a gesture of equal parts disbelief and genuine happiness despite the terrible circumstances, “I think I’d like that very much.”


	5. Let's Make a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of his rescue attempt, Hot Rod has to get creative to keep Thunderclash from offering to heroically stay behind. Although his injuries are slowing him down, there's no way Hot Rod is escaping without Thunderclash! 
> 
> Even if he has to admit that he needs his help.

“Did you hear that?” Hun-Garr rumbled with cruel laughter. “ _Thunders_ wants to see his friend one last time. What do you say we arrange a little reunion?” 

The other four Terrorcons roared. Fierce hunger shone in their deep crimson optics. The sun flashed on their sharp claws and energon splattered armor. Hot Rod shrank back into the shadows, wishing they would hurry up and leave already. Seeing Thunderclash in such a state was killing him but he couldn’t risk being spotted now. 

“TERRORCONS!! FAN OUT!” Hun-Garr commanded. Thunderclash’s energon dripped from his fangs. “I don’t want to lose our second course!” 

“You got it boss!” Rippersnapper saluted with his spindly arms and galloped off towards the dust cloud kicked up by the detonating rock structure. The other three Terrorcons loped eagerly after him. 

“See you soon!” Hun-Garr sneered at Thunderclash lying prone in the dust. He turned to join his troops, sweeping his tail low as he spun striking Thunderclash across the face. His cruel laughter darkened the atmosphere like the smoke from Hot Rod’s explosion. 

Thunderclash’s frame shivered with the force of the blow then went still. Hot Rod clenched his fists so hard he dented his palms. 

Hot Rod waited for a few excruciating seconds after all the Terrorcons left and then bolted out of his hiding spot. He rushed to Thunderclash, praying that the big idiot was alive. Otherwise, he just wasted a lot of time and a few perfectly good plasma charges. 

“Thunderclash!” Hot Rod hissed. He moved to grab his shoulder and froze. His injuries looked so much worse up close. Energon splattered his colorful armor and damaged circuits jutted out of the deep gashes. Hot Rod hesitated, not sure where he could touch him without causing more pain. 

“H- Hot R- Rod??” Static filled his voice. Thunderclash shook his head and reset his vocalizer. 

“Yeah. You scared me for a second there.” Hot Rod sagged with relief. He tugged at the bonds on Thunderclash’s hands. The big bot winced. Noticing his unspoken pain, Hot Rod ignited his fingers and burned off the length of cable the Terrorcons used as impromptu handcuffs. 

“Wh- what are you doing here?” Thunderclash asked as Hot Rod gingerly helped him sit up. His voice sounded distant. 

“That’s a funny way to pronounce “Thank you for saving me from becoming tonight’s main course”.” Hot Rod huffed. Maybe he should have let the Terrorcons eat him. 

Thunderclash blinked a few more times, swaying unsteadily, obviously reeling from the effects of his four on one fight combined with his shrinking spark. He stared at Hot Rod, trying to focus his optics, while absent-mindedly rubbing his damaged wrists. 

“Are- are you really here?” Thunderclash asked suspiciously, narrowing his optics. 

“No. I’m a mirage conjured by your delirious dying brain that burned off your cuffs and helped you sit up. Of course, I’m here!” Hot Rod groaned, dragging a palm down his face. How many blows to the helm did ol’ Thunders take during his fight with the Terrorcons? “I swiped the power converters and a bunch of other scrap, but if we don’t get moving, we’ll both be on the menu!” 

Thunderclash’s optics widened as his concussed brain slowly put the pieces together. 

“I’m so glad that you’re okay!” Thunderclash gushed. The big bot leapt forward faster than Hot Rod thought he could move given his condition. He swept Hot Rod into a crushing hug. 

“HEY!” Hot Rod wriggled in his grasp. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he rescued Thunderclash, but it wasn’t a fraggin’ hug. “Why were you so worried about me? I told you I could take care of myself!” 

“I don’t worry because I doubt your abilities, I worry because I care. That’s why I threw you out of reach of the Terrorcons. Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn’t bear watching them tear you apart. I knew you could get the supplies we needed, but your bravery would never allow you leave me alone. I’m so sorry.” Thunderclash curled tightly around him. The big bot’s frame trembled. 

Hot Rod contemplated using his flames to make Thunderclash drop him again. But they had been through a lot in the last few hours. Thunderclash survived a brutal beat down with a terminal spark condition in full knowledge that escaping the Terrorcons will likely only postpone his death by a few hours. So instead of instantly breaking away, he offered Thunderclash a comforting squeeze. 

“Hey... It’s okay. Take it easy. I’ve got you.” Strange. Hot Rod strove to accomplish some grand victory to prove himself but offering Thunderclash a bit of quiet reassurance felt more heroic than all the high adventure that had brought them to this moment. 

“Thanks,” Thunderclash mumbled. Tension eased out of his plating and his frame stopped shaking. He finally set Hot Rod down. “For not giving up on me.” 

“If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t give up!” Hot Rod grinned. 

“Yeah. It’s one of the things that I admire most about you.” 

Hot Rod glared at Thunderclash. There he goes again, spouting some nonsense about admiration. Hot Rod shook his head, opting to let it go for now. They’d have plenty of time for that conversation in the safety of their repaired shuttle while traveling towards the rendezvous point. 

“Whatever.” Hot Rod shrugged. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“But-” Thunderclash struggled to his feet. He faltered once but Hot Rod steadied him. “I’m only going to slow you down.” 

“If you don’t shift out of first gear, you will!” Hot Rod shoved him along. “Sooner or later the Terrorcons will lose interest in chasing my empty dust cloud and come back looking for a meal. After all, an ‘Autobot in hand is worth two in the bush,’ or what-the-frag-ever nonsense that Kup always spouts.” 

Despite his protests, Thunderclash moved steadily forward, gaining speed with each step. Even with a severe limp, one of Thunderclash’s long strides covered several of Hot Rod’s and they made quick progress. As they hastily ascended the narrow trail back to their ship, Thunderclash tripped. He fell hard to his knees aggravating the gash on his side. Energon oozed freely from the wound trailing fresh rivulets down his armor. and acid still smoldered in the bite on his shoulder. He struggled to get up. Hot Rod cringed at the sound of grinding gears. 

“Come on! We’re almost there!” Hot Rod practically dragged him along. No way he was leaving Thunderclash behind. Not now. He thought of everyone that he had to abandon to the flames in Nyon. Hot Rod pulled with all his might to get Thunderclash back on his feet, determined to continue their progress. Thunderclash stumbled forward. 

“You should-” 

“If your next words are ‘go on without me’ I’ll burst into flames right now and burn us both ashes!” Hot Rod snapped. Sparks ignited along his spoiler, even the part that crumpled when Thunderclash tossed him away. Technically, he couldn’t burn himself but Thunderclash didn’t need to know that. If he couldn’t get moving for his own sake, maybe he’d do it for Hot Rod. Can’t the big idiot see how hard he is trying to save his stupid life?! 

“But-” 

“But nothing!” Hot Rod steeled himself. Time to lay it all on the line. “Look. I realized something when you threw me over that cliff.” 

“That you were indescribably, monumentally, super-omega hacked off?” Thunderclash flashed a cheeky grin. 

Recognizing the exact phrase that he used to describe an exceedingly angry Megatron earlier, Hot Rod’s jaw dropped. So, Thunderclash did have a sense of humor. Or perhaps his proximity to death has negated his inhibitions. 

“Hell yeah I was! That was the first thing I realized,” Hot Rod laughed. 

“I know,” Thunderclash nodded sagely. “I saw your flames. That’s why I preemptively asked for forgiveness. Sorry about the spoiler by the way.” 

“Hmm... forgiveness, particularly for the spoiler, is pending our survival,” Hot Rod grinned. Ignoring the twinge of pain, he twitched his spoiler, surprised and little self-conscious that Thunderclash noticed the dent. “Aside from that fierce flash of anger, I realized something else: neither one of us would have gotten this far alone.” 

Thunderclash cocked his head to one side. 

“We rewired the navicomp together. Escaped the Nemesis together. Hell, we even crashed-” 

“Landed.” Thunderclash corrected him with a smile. Hot Rod rolled his optics. Semantics. 

“Fine! _Landed_ the shuttle together.” Hot Rod tugged Thunderclash around the final bend back to their shuttle. “Now we’re escaping the Terrorcons together. The way I see it, we either finish this adventure together or not at all.” 

“Together?” 

“That’s right. I’ll promise to quit trying to do everything on my own if you promise to lay off the heroic martyr scrap. No more telling me to leave you behind or saying stuff like your life doesn’t matter. Because it does. I needed your help to get this far. You might be dying, but you’re not dead yet. Deal?” Hot Rod offered his hand. 

Thunderclash stared at Hot Rod. A lopsided smile slowly drew across his face, causing fresh energon to seep out of a reopened seam on his split lip. He took Hot Rod’s small golden hand in his much larger cobalt one. 

“Deal!” 

“Alright!” Hot Rod grinned and gave his hand an enthusiastic shake. “Let’s light the fires and kick the tires, big daddy!” 

“What??” Thunderclash laughed as they arrived back their shuttle. 

“It means, let’s get it in gear and get out of here already!” Hot Rod snickered. 

“That sound like an excellent idea!” Thunderclash smiled. 

A chorus of angry roars echoed through the surrounding canyons. The Terrorcons must have returned to discover their meal had gone missing. Hot Rod’s and Thunderclash’s optics widened and they stared at each other. 

“We need to go! Now!” Hot Rod shouted. 

Thunderclash nodded and hurried as fast as his injuries allowed. Hot Rod smiled when he never once offered to stay behind. 

Although the ground around their shuttle was scuffed and splattered with energon, the shuttle itself appeared to have survived Thunderclash’s bout with the Terrorcons undamaged. Hot Rod quickly hopped in the still open hatch, pivoting at the top to offer Thunderclash a hand, yanking the big bot safely inside with all his might. 

Once aboard, Hot Rod sealed the hatch and tossed a power convertor to Thunderclash. He turned it over in his hands. 

“Ooo! These are quality parts! The Decepticons went to Tosche Station to pick up their power convertors!” Thunderclash hummed appreciatively. * 

“I don’t care where they’re from!” Hot Rod huffed and wriggled under the control panel. “You install the high one, I’ll get the low one. I’d like to get out of here before your spurned dinner dates show up!” 

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Thunderclash snapped into a salute and flinched when it aggravated his shoulder’s acid burn. He quickly switched arms and gingerly reached up to fit the missing part into place. 

“Where are you comin’ at me with that ‘Captain’ stuff?” Hot Rod chuckled, crawling back out after the quick install. 

Since Thunderclash removed the damaged power converters before their run-in with the Terrorcons, all they had to do was simply pop in the new ones. Repairs complete, they hurried to get the ship in the air. Thunderclash hesitated, unsure of what to do until Hot Rod shoved him towards the pilot seat. 

“ _You’re_ the ace pilot!” 

Although it chafed him to give up the chance to fly, Hot Rod knew he needed to figure out their route. Since Thunderclash finally stopped trying to sacrifice himself in some heroic fashion at every turn, the least Hot Rod could do was hold up his end of the deal and not try to do everything himself. Hot Rod leapt to the navigator’s desk and shuffled the star charts and datapads, trying to make sense out of the mess that Thunderclash made during their initial escape. 

“Come on.” Thunderclash cajoled. “Judging from our first flight, you know a thing or two about piloting yourself. It takes someone special to fly a ship with no navicomp, blown out hydraulics, and burnt up power convertors. But the pilot only flies the ship. The Captain is the one who protects the crew and makes the decisions that are best for everybody,” Thunderclash grinned. He flopped heavily into the seat and ran his hand down a row of switches. “Like I said before, I’m a decent pilot, but, Hot Rod, you make an excellent Captain!” 

“Really? Captain? Me??” Hot Rod glanced over his shoulder. He really hoped Thunderclash wasn’t teasing him. 

“Yeah.” Thunderclash said softly. He focused out the window, his hands automatically adjusting dials as the shuttle hummed to life. “Many times today, I was ready to give up. I know that I’m dying so I thought if I could make my death mean something then it would, I dunno, not feel so pointless-” 

“Hey. We made a deal. No more martyrdom. Remember?” 

“Relax. We made a deal. I am totally committed to getting out of here together. And that’s my point. I couldn’t have got here without you.” 

“Duh? That’s what ‘together’ means!” Hot Rod snickered while still struggling to sort out the navigational chaos. He really should have let Thunders fly the first time. Then the maps wouldn’t be such a wreck. 

“What I’m trying to say is... thank you. Thank you for pushing me to realize that although I have a terminal injury, I am still alive. And every second of whatever time that I have left matters.” 

Thunderclash eased the throttles up to full power, the roar of the initial thrusters drowned out any further conversation. 

Hot Rod smiled. Captain? He kinda liked the sound of it. Maybe Thunderclash was on to something. Hot Rod wanted to save everyone but somehow, helping one person felt more important than he could have imagined. 

The shuttle wobbled for a moment, then lifted off the ground, kicking up a righteous cloud of dust. If the Terrorcons weren’t sure where Thunderclash went before, they knew now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Yes. I called the damaged parts "power convertors" only because I wanted to make a random Star Wars joke at some point in the future. And here we are! With Tosche Station power convertors!!
> 
> It feels mighty powerful to follow through on something so small for purely ridiculous reasons! Damn, I love writing!!


	6. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod and Thunderclash are almost in the clear! Except they forgot to account for Abominus!

The shuttle tentatively rose into the sky. Thunderclash checked all the gauges while Hot Rod quickly put the navigational charts in order. 

“All systems are go! We’re ready to-” 

The ship jerked to an abrupt halt. Thunderclash frantically fiddled with the controls. Easing more power into the throttle, he struggled to free the shuttle from whatever trapped it. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong! It should be impossible for the ship to just stop in midair during take-off!” He shouted over the shuttle’s screaming engines. 

Hot Rod leapt for the windows. Without their scanners, they couldn’t detect anything approaching. Looking out the rear window, his optics widened. 

“Holy frag!” Hot Rod gasped. A towering Cybertronian gestalt gripped the shuttle’s tail fin in one massive clawed hand. It fought the shuttle’s powerful engines, trying to pull them down. 

“HA HA HA HAAAA! ABOMINUS CATCH DINNER!!” A voice boomed. 

“Oh no. We are royally fragged.” Thunderclash groaned. “The Terrorcons combined.” 

“WHAT?!” Hot Rod rounded on him. It must be exceedingly bad if Thunderclash swore. “Are you telling me that the gigantic fraggin’ monster is made of the Terrorcons?!” 

“Yeah. They can combine to form the gestalt Abominus. I don’t know if they always could or if it’s the result of some weird experiment. Either way spells bad news for us.” Thunderclash winced. He rocked the shuttle back and forth, trying to loosen the combiner’s hold. Abominus tightened his grip and the shuttle’s heavy armor squealed. “If we don’t get away soon, we’re done.” 

Hot Rod rushed for the shuttle hatch. He didn’t drag Thunderclash out of assorted dangers all day to lose him now. When they first met, Hot Rod was determined to keep Thunderclash alive so he wouldn’t get blamed for his death. Now the thought of losing that big idiot did something uncomfortable to his spark. Flames raced across his frame. He slammed the emergency exit button. The hatch door swung open and wind whipped through the hull. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Thunderclash screamed. He jerked one arm out to grab Hot Rod but couldn’t reach him. If he let go of the shuttle’s controls, Abominus would win their deadly game of tug-of-war. His burned shoulder gears screeched with the strain. 

“Relax!” Hot Rod flashed a grin full of confidence that he didn’t feel. He braced himself against the open door and summoned his inner fire to his hands with a flick of his wrists. “I know a thing or two about getting a big bot to let go!” He added with a sly wink. The fact that it made Thunderlcash sputter filled him with glee. 

Hot Rod hung precariously out the open hatch and directed both fists towards Abominus’ claws digging into their shuttle’s fins. He blasted them with a torrent of fire. 

“AHHHH!! HOT!! HOT!! HOT!!!” The combiner shrieked and instantly released them. He shook his singed fingers. 

“HA! Take that!” Hot Rod roared triumphantly. 

The shuttle jostled as the full throttle thrusters flung them forward without the combiner’s weight to tether them in place. In the sudden movement, Hot Rod lost his balance and fell out of the ship. 

He gasped, too shocked to cry out. Everything happened so fast that time seemed to stand still. Hot Rod flailed through the air with Thunderclash’s frantic cry ringing in audials. 

The irony of it all slammed his processor. After trying so hard to keep Thunderclash alive, he was going to die. His lightweight speedster armor would crumple upon impact with the unforgiving rocks below. If he was lucky the fall would kill him before a bunch of angry Terrorcons tore him to pieces. Imagining his small frame subjected to the mauling that Thunderclash endured sent a shiver through his circuits. 

His mind raced. He plummeted towards the jagged red rocks with no salvation in sight. The stark realization that without his makeshift spark stabilization chamber Thunderclash will die was well struck him like the rapidly approaching earth. He tried so hard but, like always, it wasn’t enough. He was never enough. Ground racing towards him, Hot Rod braced himself and hoped it would be over quickly. 

Hot Rod’s optics widened as their shuttle moved in a way that he would have thought impossible. It defied the laws of physics. The flaps fully extended, halting all forward progress and it barrel rolled around him at top speed. The shuttle pivoted to match his fall and looped underneath him. Somehow, he dropped directly back into the open hatch, caught by an extraordinary display of aeronautic acrobatics. 

Hot Rod tumbled across the shuttle floor as it rolled right side up and blasted away from Abominus. 

“NOOOOOO! NOT FAIR!!” Abominus roared and shook his fist at the fleeing shuttle. 

Thunderclash activated the hatch door override, sealing it closed. Clinging to navigator’s desk, Hot Rod’s spark spun wildly. His vent fans whirled. Did that just happen?! 

“HOT ROD??” Thunderclash screamed over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

“I- I think so?” Hot Rod willed his engine to slow it’s revving. He thought for sure that he was a goner. “How- you- I didn’t know a shuttle could spin like that?” 

“Neither did I!” Thunderclash flashed his lopsided grin. “But I had to try. We made a deal to finish our adventure together. Remember?” 

“Oh my god!” Hot Rod gasped. Still wrapped around the desk like it might disappear at any moment, he started giggling. Between the adrenaline rush of nearly dying and the exertion of burning up so much fuel to blast Abominus, he felt giddy. He couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Hot Rod?” Thunderclash cast a worried glance over his slowly smoldering shoulder. 

“I’m fine!” Hot Rod wheezed. He finally untangled himself from the desk and ran his hands along his own frame. Still in one piece! He couldn’t believe it. His initial admiration of Thunderclash’s piloting skills flooded back. He took a huge risk with some untested flight maneuvers solely to rescue Hot Rod. The big idiot wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. Hot Rod started to understand what Kup sees in him. 

“You know what? I take it back. You’re not a decent pilot at all.” 

“No?” Thunderclash sounded hurt. Preparing to leave the desert planet to the Terrorcons, he pulled the shuttle’s nose up and eased the throttle forward. 

“No way! You are a TOTALLY RADICAL PILOT!! The best that I’ve ever seen!!” Hot Rod laughed. He bounded up and hopped into the co-pilot's seat, grinning like a maniac. The chair spun with the impact of his leap. “That was amazeballs! I’ve never seen anyone fly like that before!!” 

“Really? You mean that?” Hope lit up Thunderclash’s battered face. “Amazeballs is good? Right?” 

“HELL YEAH IT IS!!” Hot Rod exclaimed. He enthusiastically re-enacted Thunderclash’s shuttle maneuvers with his hands, swinging his arms wildly. “You totally saved my aft back there! Once I fell, I thought I was dead. I mean, I’ve almost died before, but I thought this time for sure! But then you- and the shuttle swerved- and somehow caught me!! WOW!! What I’m trying to say is... Thank you.” 

“You're welcome,” Thunderclash smiled with relief. “It was the very least that I could do.” 

Still slightly keyed up from his brush with death, Hot Rod bounced his leg and scanned the sky. He already had a fair idea about their route. Without functioning scanners, he wanted to keep an optics out for any Decepticon activity until they cleared the area. Once he calmed down a bit more and there were safely on their way, he’d start work on modifying the spark defibrillator. 

The shuttle reached the upper atmosphere, shuddering violently with the effort of escaping the planet’s gravity. Flames flashed across the heat shielding. The dusky blue of the sky slowly darkened to the pitch black of outer space. Stars winked into view as they left the planet behind. 

“WATCH OUT!” Hot Rod grabbed Thunderclash’s shoulder and pointed out the right window. 

The hobbled Nemesis loomed large before them. 

“You gotta be kidding me!” Thunderclash groaned. He yanked back on the throttle and flipped off all the electrical switches. The operational lights all blinked out at once and the engines fell silent. He rolled the shuttle over so the matte heat shields faced up. 

“What are you doing? We gotta get outta here!” Hot Rod hissed. Noticing Thunderclash shiver when he gripped his arm, he switched his death grip to the back of his chair. 

“Take it easy. Their sensors are still down,” Thunderclash curled his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. He gently nudged the shuttle’s nose to maintain their heading without using any thrusters. “If we power down and float casually away, they won’t even notice us. We’ll look like another piece of harmless space junk.” 

“Space junk, huh?” Hot Rod snickered. “Seems perfect for us!” 

Thunderclash chuckled with a weary smile. His vent fans wheezed. 

They drifted quietly away from the Decepticon warworld, drawn into orbit around the planet below. Hot Rod’s plating twitching. More waiting. He hated it. 

Needing to do something, Hot Rod grabbed the pilfered defibrillator and cracked it open. He started fiddling with the wires, trying to reconfigure it into something that could help Thunderclash. Spark stabilization chambers work in an enclosed space, but the only space they had was the shuttle itself. Since the energy field shouldn’t affect a healthy spark, Hot Rod decided to turn the entire shuttle into a stabilization chamber. It would help Thunderclash and wouldn’t affect him at all. Maybe he could wire the thing directly into the gravity generator? 

They continued to drift away from the Decepticons in near silence. Thunderclash’s stuttering vent fans whirled softly and energon dripped sporadically from his wounds. Those deep gashes needed patched but if Hot Rod couldn’t stabilize Thunderclash’s shrinking spark, then it would all be in vain. He focused on converting the defibrillator, but the audial reminders of the big bot’s precarious health made Hot Rod’s plating crawl. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Desperate for any type of noise, he blurted out, “Can I ask you an important question?” 

“Hmm? Sure.” Thunderclash shrugged, seemingly undisturbed by his deteriorating condition. His magenta optics darted between various gauges as he made slight adjustments to different dials nudging their shuttle silently on course. 

“Why did you say all that stuff about me?” 

“What stuff?” Thunderclash threw an arm over the back of his chair and leaned sideways, finally turning to focus on Hot Rod. 

“The stuff about me being important... and you... admiring me?” Hot Rod chewed his lip. He wanted something to distract him from the quiet waiting, but he regretted asking as soon as the words left his vocalizer. What if he didn’t like Thunderclash’s answer? 

“Because it’s true,” Thunderclash responded nonchalantly, like it was totally normal. Like praise is something that Hot Rod hears all the time instead of something he desperately craved yet never received. 

“But- but why though?” Hot Rod pushed the issue as the Nemesis fell farther and farther away. He focused on his fingers, delicately splicing wires in his makeshift medical device. 

“Because of Nyon.” 

“Oh.” Hot Rod’s ruined spoiler drooped. Great. Just another person that thought he was tough for killing everyone that he ever knew. Why does everything always come back to that day? 

“Sorry. I didn’t want to bring it up,” Thunderclash winced. “But I didn’t mean what you had to do on that one horrific day, but what you’ve done every day after.” 

“What do you mean?” Hot Rod’s brow furrowed. All anyone ever acknowledged was that one fateful day that poor little Hot Rod had the bearings to burn his entire city to dust to save them from being used to fuel Sentinel’s weapons. 

“Despite the terrible burden that you took upon when you burned the city, you continue to move forward. Each new day you get up and you carry on. Your resilience is truly inspiring.” 

Hot Rod stared at Thunderclash, feeling an unexpected kinship. No one else ever understood his pain. How it hurt every single day to live with the knowledge that Nyon is gone and it’s all his fault. 

“When- when Ratchet first gave me the news about my terminal spark condition, I didn’t know how to process it. Locked in a spark stabilization chamber, I wondered why I should even bother with the treatments. It felt like a waste of resources. Why prolong the inevitable, you know?” 

Thunderclash paused to offer him a sad smile but continued before Hot Rod could object. 

“Then one day, a news story about you played on the vid screen mounted in my room. Everyone knew about Nyon. Although if what everyone ‘knows’ about Nyon is the same as what everyone ‘knows’ about my injury, I’ll wager that no one has any idea of what you go through on a daily basis.” 

“Yeah,” Hot Rod huffed a nervous laugh. He never expected anyone to understand him, least of all the greatest Autobot of all fraggin’ time. 

“Anyways, you had just rescued an entire platoon that had been pinned down under heavy fire. You smiled in the picture, even if it didn’t quite reach your optics. At that moment, I decided that I would move forward too, no matter how hard things got. Despite the pain, you were out there, trying your best. If you could get up every day after enduring such an immense loss, then the least that I could do is try. I felt like I owed it to you.” 

“Damn.” Hot Rod swore softly. Guilt about his earlier jealousy gnawed at him. 

“I always wanted to meet you. But you’re out there on the front lines and I’m usually stuck in the medibay. Then we got thrust into all this craziness today and you saved me time and time again, even when I asked you to leave me. I guess what I’m trying to say is: you’re my hero.” 

Hot Rod blinked, completely stunned. For once in his life, he had nothing to say. Everyone else either looked down on him for his small size or brushed him off as too reckless. And yet, the single person that everyone else idolized was sitting here in front of him saying that Hot Rod was his hero. 

_HIS HERO!_

Maybe it’s only for one person, but somehow it felt more important. More personal. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Hot Rod began. “Except thank you.” 

“For what?” Thunderclash asked. 

“First of all, for telling me all that. It really means a lot. To me. But also, for saving me several times today as well. We’re in this mess together, remember? Especially because I know that I didn’t make it easy for you.” 

“I know!” Thunderclash chuckled. He rubbed at the scorch mark on his chest. “And I have the burns to prove it.” 

“Oops!” Hot Rod sheepishly ducked his head. 

“Relax! They are not unearned. I should never have grabbed you. I sincerely apologize.” 

“Yeah, but I’m kinda glad you did. I got a new friend out of the deal.” Hot Rod recalled the way Thunderclash flatly told the Terrorcons that he didn’t have any friends. Sure, he was obnoxiously charming and a heroic pain in the aft, but he was also adventurous, kind, and genuine. Hot Rod had to admit they made a pretty good team, when they actually cooperated. 

“New friend? Me?” Thunderclash gasped. 

“Totally! Although, I must warn you, I don’t have that many so I might not be too good at it.” Hot Rod laughed. 

“Me neither! But I’m honored to work at honing my friendship skills with you!” Thunderclash’s face lit up in a broad lopsided grin. 

“Friends?” Hot Rod offered his hand. 

“Friends!” Thunderclash emphatically agreed, shaking his hand with gusto. 

Hot Rod grinned and focused his attention on integrating his makeshift spark stabilization device into the shuttle’s artificial gravity generator. Time was running short. He made a deal with Thunderclash that they would survive this adventure together or not at all and he wasn’t about to disappoint a friend.


	7. Or Not at All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod wires the spark defibrillator directly into the shuttle's gravity generator in hopes of creating a spark stabilizing effect to save Thunderclash's life. It will either work perfectly or cause a massive explosion. 
> 
> Whatever happens, they promised to get through it together!

Hot Rod was beginning to think everything might actually work out. The Nemesis slowly shrank into the darkness of space behind them and he was nearly finished with his jury-rigged spark stabilization system. Thunderclash prepared to engage the shuttle’s boosters to finally get them back on track 

“We’re finally out of sight of the Decepticons! Please give me our first navigational vector, Hot Rod.” 

“Roddy.” Hot Rod handed him notes on their first heading. 

“Excuse me?” 

“In Nyon, my friends called me Roddy. Before they- I mean before I-” Hot Rod stopped himself before he added ‘before I killed them all’. Before he burned them all into dust because they trusted him to protect them from Sentinel and he only had one way to do it. No one had used that nickname in a long time. 

“We’re friends, right? It- it would be okay if you called me that.” 

“Alright... Roddy.” 

“Hey, Thunders? Is it okay that I call you Thunders?” 

“Sure. I kinda like it.” 

Hot Rod smiled. When he started this whole adventure, he wanted to save everyone and become an important hero. Now he was lost in space with the one person that he hoped to never actually meet and found a friend. Someone who knew what it was like to bear hidden pain every single day. And perhaps the most unexpected thing of all, someone who looks up to him! The support and respect of one real friend outweighed all the theoretical adoration of the masses. 

With Decepticon warship finally out of view, Thunderclash engaged the main thrusters on their shuttle. He set a course following the first heading while Hot Rod finished up his last wiring modifications. Time was dragging on and their unexpected camaraderie made Hot Rod more determined than ever to save Thunderclash. He finally had someone to protect and this time he wouldn’t fail. No matter what! 

“When this whole thing is over, we should totally share some bootleg engex to celebrate.” 

“Bootleg?!” Thunderclash wrinkled his nose. “Ugh! No way! Life’s too short to drink terrible booze! I recommend swiping some of Ratchet’s secret stash.” 

“Ratchet has a secret stash?!” Hot Rod gasped. 

“He does! Really good stuff too! And I know where he hides it! I’ve spent so much time in the medibay that I know all his secret spots! Of course, if he catches you, he’ll probably kill you, but the risk is worth the reward!” 

“Radical!” Hot Rod snickered. “We should totally do it, sometime when we get back.” 

“I’d really like that,” Thunderclash answered softly with a smile of sad resignation. He kept his optics locked on the instrument panel and hunched his shoulders. His vent fans wheezed. “But I think the ‘sometime’ might be for other people.” 

“What if it wasn’t though?” Hot Rod asked with a grin. He was done! He stepped aside to reveal a colorful tangle of spliced together wires and hastily welded components dangling out of their shuttle’s control panels. “TA-DAAA!” 

“It’s beautiful!” Thunderclash chuckled. Then his smile turned quizzical and he tilted his head to one side. “What is it?” 

“This saucy little piece of kit is going to save your life!” 

“Roddy! That is no way to talk about yourself!” 

“Oh my god!” Hot Rod gasped. 

Thunderclash snorted and burst into laughter. 

“I’m glad that you still have the energy to be stupid!” Hot Rod laughed. 

“I might be dying, but I’m not dead yet!” Thunderclash smiled. “It’s something that a friend told me and I’m doing my best to live up to it.” 

Hot Rod beamed. He couldn’t believe something that he said had such an impact on Thunderclash. He could get used to people taking him seriously. 

“You won’t be dead for a while yet, if I have anything to say about it.” 

“Really? How?” Thunderclash’s dimming optics lit up. Enthusiasm raised his voice. 

Hot Rod’s spark swelled. It was all in his tone. Thunderclash asked, not with disparaging disbelief, but with excited awe. It wasn’t “How? That’s impossible! What’s wrong with you?” it was “How? I’m curious! Please explain it to me!” He always knew having someone else respect his abilities and believe in him would feel good, but he wasn’t prepared for such extreme validation. 

“Well... it’s a bit of Nyonian engineering!” Hot Rod pointed to the spark defibrillator he wired directly into the artificial gravity generator. “We didn’t have access to a spark stabilization chamber, so I’m going to turn the entire shuttle into one! I bogarted a spark defibrillator from the Terrorcons and looped the energy output through the gravity generator. It should disperse the intense electrical burst into a field of low consistent energy, contained within the shuttle’s hull.” 

“Wooow!” Thunderclash gaped in awe. 

“Either that or blow the whole thing up.” Hot Rod quickly ran through his disclaimer. 

“Wait... WHAT?!” Thunderclash’s face fell. 

“Total explosion is a possibility,” Hot Rod shrugged casually. Although he was fairly certain that he wired everything correctly, it’s not like he could check the blueprints. Like all Nyonian originals, it was truly one of a kind. “But we made a deal, remember? Together or not at all.” 

“But- but- I know I’m dying. You’re not. We’ve come so far. It’s too much to ask you to risk your life any more than you already have. I can’t let you do this.” 

“Too bad! It’s not your choice to make!” Hot Rod flippantly activated his makeshift medical device before Thunderclash could break their deal and heroically offer to sacrifice himself... again. 

The machine vibrated and an electric crackle arced throughout the entire ship. It started humming faster and faster. 

“Roddy!! Watch out!!” Thunderclash leapt out of the pilot’s seat. His flickering spark made his stabilizers sluggish and he tripped over his over feet. He struggled up again and tackled Hot Rod, curling himself protectively around the small speedster. 

Hot Rod gasped and automatically huddled close to Thunderclash’s chest. Fear froze his spark and his mind raced. Did he get something wrong? 

A high-pitched whine echoed through the shuttle. 

He braced himself for a catastrophic impact... 

Which never came. The machine’s energetic start dulled to a steady rhythm. It happily pulsed away with no hint of imminent explosion. 

“Oh my god, Thunders! What the frag was that?!” Hot Rod laughed, tightly cocooned in Thunderclash’s arms. He playfully wriggled free. 

“I dunno.” Thunderclash released Hot Rod and gingerly eased himself down to sit on the floor. “I didn’t want to you blow up.” 

“If I was gonna explode, so were you,” Hot Rod rolled his optics. “The entire shuttle would have been blown to bits.” 

“But... that didn’t happen.” 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious!” Hot Rod elbowed him. “Since it didn’t blow up, does that mean it’s working?” 

“I’m not sure. How do you feel?” Thunderclash asked with genuine concern. 

“ME?! I feel fine! But it’s not supposed to affect me at all.” Hot Rod scoffed. He playfully jabbed a small golden finger at Thunderclash’s gaudy chest decal. “YOU’RE the one the spark issues. How do YOU feel?” 

Thunderclash rubbed his chest and furrowed his brow, evaluating his own condition. 

“Well?” Anticipation set all Hot Rod’s circuits on edge. He bet everything on his mishmash device working. They still had a long way to go to reach the safety of the well-stocked Autobot base. If the energy field doesn’t stabilize Thunderclash’s flickering spark... 

“Huh? I- I do feel a little different. It’s not exactly the same sensation as being in a spark stabilization chamber, but it’s similar.” Thunderclash blinked. “It doesn’t hurt as bad anymore.” 

“Really?” Intermittent waves of excitement and relief buffeted Hot Rod’s spark. 

“Really!” Thunderclash stared at him, his broad lopsided grin slowly growing. 

“OH HELL YEAH!! IT WORKS!!” Hot Rod pumped his fist in the air. Before he registered what he was doing, he flung his arms around Thunderclash and hugged him tightly. “You’re gonna be okay!!” 

“I’m gonna be okay!” Thunderclash repeated, his voice a bit shaky. He pulled Hot Rod close and buried his face in Hot Rod’s small shoulder. 

“Hey! Don’t you dare cry!” Hot Rod chided him. 

“I can’t help it!” Thunderclash’s voice broke a little more. “This whole time, I only saw one outcome. I wouldn’t be able to get to a medibay for my treatment and that would be it. All I wanted was a chance to do something meaningful before I died. When I stayed behind to sabotage the transport’s navicomp, I had basically resigned myself to my fate.” 

“Sorry. But I don’t give up that easily! Especially when things look impossible!” 

“Things looked worse than impossible! We’re miles from the nearest equipped medibay. How did you even have the idea to convert the entire shuttle to a spark stabilization chamber?!” 

“I dunno.” Hot Rod shrugged. “I knew you needed help but we didn’t have the right equipment. We never had exactly what we needed in Nyon, so I’m kinda used to finding creative solutions.” 

“But pilfering a spark defibrillator from the Terrorcons and reconfiguring it into something that can save my live?!” 

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

“It was a great idea! I knew you were resilient and resourceful, but I had no idea how much! Roddy, you are incredible!” 

_Incredible!!_

Hot Rod reveled in that compliment for a few moments. Incredible sounded so much better than reckless or careless or selfish. He only wished it were true... 

“Thanks.” Hot Rod huffed. “But you are literally the only person that thinks so.” 

“That doesn’t make it any less true. Even if I wasn’t here to say it, even if no one else believes it, that doesn’t change the truth. Things that are true can’t be affected by anyone’s belief. They just are. And Roddy, you are incredible.” 

Hot Rod couldn’t believe it. Did he dare believe such a thing could be true? 

“Incredible huh? I’ll try to remember that the next time someone gives me a hard time.” 

“Please do.” Thunderclash squeezed him tightly. 

“Thanks.” Hot Rod sighed. If he didn’t feel incredible maybe he could just fake it until it feels real. 

“Ow.” Hot Rod winced when Thunderclash accidently brushed his dented spoiler. 

“Here. Let me take a look at that.” Thunderclash released him. 

“No! It’s okay! I’m fine! Totally fine!” Hot Rod took a small step backwards. He would have patched it up himself if he could reach it. He wasn’t used to having other people help him. 

“It’s alright. I helped Ratchet get through medical school and picked up quite a bit of first aid skills from various battlefields. It looks pretty painful and it’s totally my fault you got hurt. Please, let me help. After you rewired our entire ship to save my life, it’s the least that I can do.” 

Hot Rod wavered. He did make a deal with Thunderclash to not try to do everything himself. Although he’d been ignoring the damage up to this point, even a minor patch job would be much more comfortable. He tried to convince himself that being an incredible hero meant that it was okay to accept a little help. 

“Okay. But be careful!” Hot Rod handed Thunderclash the first aid kit. 

“I wouldn’t dream of being anything else.” 

Thunderclash took out the solvent and gently cleaned away bit of dried energon and red dust. Hot Rod shivered. It hurt but having someone else take care of him also felt... kinda nice. 

“You alright?” Thunderclash asked with quiet concern. 

Hot Rod nodded. He tried not to flinch. 

“Okay. I’m really sorry, but the damage is pretty bad. We don’t have the tools or parts to completely rebuild your spoiler, but I can patch the cracks. Sorry, you’ll still have to see Ratch when we get back.” 

Careful not to jostle Hot Rod’s crumpled spoiler more than necessary, Thunderclash gingerly applied a few patches over the worst cracks. He smoothed the surface using only one large finger. Hot Rod found himself relaxing. His spoiler still needed a lot of repairs, but it felt much better now that it was cleaned and properly patched. 

“All done!” Thunderclash snapped the first aid kit closed with a satisfied grin. 

“Thanks! It feels a lot better! With all the ‘trying not to get eaten’, I didn’t even realize how bad it hurt.” Hot Rod twitched his spoiler. The patches tugged but the pain was greatly reduced. “Since we survived and all, I suppose I totally forgive you for tossing me away like an empty energon cube resulting in said spoiler damage.” 

“Really?!” Hope lit up Thunderclash’s face. “Do you mean it?!” 

“Yeah. I do. Forgiving each other is something that friends do. Or so I’m told.” 

“Thanks, Roddy.” 

“Don’t thank me yet!” Hot Rod snatched the first aid kit. “Now it’s my turn!” 

He stared at Thunderclash and noted the numerous injuries marring his massive frame. His one shoulder still smoked from Blot’s acid bite, energon oozed out of the deep gash in his side, his knee was mangled and there were dozens of small dents and damaged circuits. Despite all the damage, his color looked much better. His multicolor paint work gleamed a bit brighter as Hot Rod’s spark stabilization shuttle modifications did their job. 

“Except... I don’t know where to even start!” 

“Don’t worry about it. Ratchet can deal with this mess.” Thunderclash yawned. “You’ve already done so much. You saved my life. In more ways than I can express.” 

“All I did was mangle a defibrillator and wire it directly into our shuttle.” 

“Although your creative ingenuity is stabilizing my spark, that’s not what I meant.” Thunderclash yawned again. “You’ve given me a new outlook on my condition. I’m going to try a new approach. Instead of looking for a meaningful death, I want to live the fullest that I can, with whatever time that I have left.” 

“That’s the spirit, Thunders!” Hot Rod grinned and playfully cuffed his uninjured shoulder. “I’m happy to help! That’s something else friends do!” 

“It’s also what heroes do!” Thunderclash smiled lazily and his magenta optics dimmed. 

“Thanks, but... are you okay?” Thunderclash’s compliment made Hot Rod’s spark spin, but something set his circuits on edge. 

“Yeah, fine.” Thunderclash slouched a little lower. 

“You don’t look so fine.” Fear flowed cold through Hot Rod’s lines. 

“I’m sorry, Roddy.” Thunderclash slurred his words. 

“Thunders! What are you apologizing for??” Hot Rod’s vent fans whined. He had an idea, but he really didn’t like the answer his brain was giving him. After all this time, after all they’ve been through, is Thunderclash actually dying?! He tried so hard to save him time and time again. Tears burned his optics. 

“I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to finish piloting us to the new base. I- I can’t...” 

“Damn it, Thunders! You can’t die now!” Hot Rod yelled. His voice broke. He grabbed Thunderclash’s shoulders tightly like he could physically restrain him from dying. 

“DIE?! Oh my god! NO!!” Thunderclash sleepily chuckled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not dying... I mean technically I am... but not right this second... I mean-” 

“WHAT?!” Hot Rod shook him with a mix of relief and impatience. “What do you mean?!” 

“Going into a spark stabilization chamber when too much time elapsed between treatments makes me sleepy. That’s a sure sign that your machine is working perfectly, Roddy.” Thunderclash yawned again. His head nodded. 

“This is normal??” Relief lightened Hot Rod’s systems. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna slip into recharge. Probably for a good long while. I don’t want to leave you awake by yourself but I can’t help it. I’m sorry...” 

“Don’t be sorry, you dope!” Hot Rod laughed, giddy with the knowledge that his mishmash engineering travesty is actively saving the life of his friend. It didn’t offset the countless deaths on his hands, but, in this moment, it felt damn good. “Just relax and get better.” 

“Is that an order, Captain?” Thunderclash offered a cheeky grin. 

“Damn straight it is!! Thank you for all your help, but I’ll take it from here.” Hot Rod laid his small hand on Thunderclash’s much larger one. “We’re in this together. Don’t forget it!” 

“Thank YOU, Roddy.” Thunderclash closed his optics and sighed. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.” 

“Knowing you’re going to life your best life until you can’t, is thanks enough, Thunders.” Hot Rod squeezed his hand. 

Thunderclash gripped Hot Rod’s hand, holding it warm and firm for a few seconds. Then the strength bled out of his grasp and his hand fell away as he slipped into recharge. 

Never expecting to get so upset over someone falling into recharge, Hot Rod sat there next to a slumbering Thunderclash for a few seconds. He watched the light gleam on his vibrantly colored paintwork and listened to his massive engine rumble softly to remind himself that Thunders is okay. 

Hot Rod leapt to his feet and dashed for the control panel. He doubled checked their heading and pushed the throttle wide open. The shuttle roared through space at top speed. They had a secret base to find! 

“Hold on, Thunders!” Hot Rod grinned. “We’ve got a deal to keep!”


	8. Captain's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderclash wakes up in an unfamiliar medibay with a splitting headache and the nagging sensation that he's forgetting something important...

_Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Thunderclash woke up slowly to the familiar soft chirping of medical equipment. He attempted to stretch while his optics came online. His joints creaked, rusted tight from disuse. As his bleary vision cleared, he recognized the nondescript gray speckle pattern ceiling tiles used in many Autobot medibays. 

_Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep..._

Something about that information worried him, but he couldn’t figure out why. 

He flexed his fingers with great difficulty. He fought his frame for every motion. Everything ached. Waking up after he passed out from complications due to his spark injury never felt this bad. 

What happened to him? 

_Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep..._

He sluggishly brought his right hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Fighting in a monstrous headache, Thunderclash struggled to piece together his fragmented memories. 

Blurred images gradually took shape in his mind. He recalled volunteering to pilot the Autobot transport ship. The Nemesis pursed them into an asteroid field. Although he flew valiantly, deftly maneuvering across the field, the Decepticons refused to accept defeat. Megatron took a heavy-handed approach and destroyed the entire asteroid belt, damaging both of the ships in the process. 

Thunderclash recalled arguing with Ratchet. Someone had to stay behind and hold the ship steady to allow the evacuation shuttles to escape safely. Thunderclash was the pilot and he was already dying. It only made sense that he go down with the ship to ensure everyone else’s survival. Ratchet disagreed. Emphatically and loudly with creative bursts of profanity that could curdle motor oil. In the end, Optimus Prime had to pick Ratchet up and physically drag him off the bridge. 

_Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep..._

After the last shuttle of evacuees left the hanger, Thunderclash decided to go out with a blaze of glory. If he could sabotage the navicomp systems, the blast would disable the Nemesis’ sensors, allowing everyone to escape. He remembered pulling wires out of the control panels, but he wasn’t alone... 

Someone helped him. Someone saved him... 

RODDY!! 

The rest of his memories blazed brightly out of the disorienting fog in his brain. Hot Rod scorching his armor when Thunderclash picked him up, struggling to plot their course and crashing the ship, fighting the Terrorcons. 

Thunderclash’s vent fans whirled. He remembered throwing Roddy over the cliff, completely resigned to facing death at the claws of the Terrorcons and the little speedster saved him anyways. He refused to give up on him even when Thunderclash asked him to go on without him. Roddy hugged him. He told him everything would be okay. He rewired the shuttle to create a makeshift spark chamber. Roddy gave him a whole new outlook on life. Thunderclash could never forget that! 

But... the last thing Thunderclash remembered was passing out on the shuttle en route to their new secret base. Waking up alone sent a shockwave of fear through his systems. 

_Beep...Beep...Beep..Beep..Beeep.Beeeep.Beeeeep_

Where was Roddy now?! Did something happen to him?! 

“R-R- RODDY?!” Thunderclash shouted through the static. He struggled to get up, thrashing through a tangle of tubes, monitor wires, and his own stubborn limbs. Pain lanced through his chest as he tore something. 

_SCCRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_

The medical equipment escalated its incessant chirping and screamed. The shrill distress signal summoned someone. Their hurried footsteps pounded through Thunderclash’s headache. 

“WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! What are you trying to do?! I worked too damn hard welding you back together for you to rip it all apart now!!” A familiar voice shouted. 

Strong arms gripped Thunderclash before he could fall off the medical berth and eased him gently back down. They carefully replaced whatever line he tore and the pain in his chest dulled from sharp to tolerable. Mercifully, they also silenced the shrieking alarm. 

“Roddy!” Thunderclash frantically gasped. “Where is he? I have to find him!!” 

“You mean Hot Rod? Relax. That little punk is totally fine.” 

All the tension bled out of Thunderclash’s frame and he slumped weakly back down. That was all he needed to hear. He cycled his optics a few times until the red and white blur at his side slowly focused into a familiar face. 

“Ratchet?” 

“The one and only.” The medic offered a weary smile. “Damn it, Clash. You scared the scrap out of me this time. I thought I lost my oldest friend.” 

“Oldest friend? Me??” Unsure if he heard correctly, Thunderclash stared at Ratchet. The medic’s clear blue optics watered. 

“Yes, you dope. I always thought you knew that I consider you one of my best friends. I’m sorry that I’m not great at talking about things like that.” 

“Don’t apologize, Ratch. I know how you are, but sometimes... I dunno...” Thunderclash never wanted to be a burden to anyone. In need of a distraction, he concentrated on moving his fingers. He smiled when they twitched slightly. Ratchet took the hint and warmly grasped his hand. 

“We’ve been through a lot together. I don’t even want to think about a universe without you in it. Why do you think that I work so hard to help you alive?” 

“Because it’s your job?” 

“No! Jerk! Well, technically yes, but also because you’re my friend. And I care about you. A lot.” 

“Wow, Ratch! That’s the most sentimental thing that you've ever said to me. I’m both shocked and touched. What brought that up?” Warmth rushed through Thunderclash’s aching spark. He and Ratchet had known each other for ages although lately Thunderclash worried that his health issues were putting too much strain on the medic. It felt so reassuring to hear Ratchet confirm their friendship. 

“Before he left, Hot Rod mentioned that maybe you didn’t realize how much I value our relationship. He implied that you thought that you didn’t have any friends.” 

Thunderclash’s mind raced to process all the information that Ratchet just offered him. Roddy was here. He once again accomplished the impossible by convincing Ratchet to tell Thunderclash that he genuinely cared about him. But... 

“Left? Roddy is gone?” His spark sank. 

“Yeah. Kup requested his assistance on a long-term covert mission. Although he really wanted to see you before they left, I’m glad to finally have a bit of peace in my medibay for a change. He’s been hanging around here waiting for you to wake up and generally being a monstrous pain in my aft for weeks.” 

“WEEKS?!” Thunderclash shouted. He immediately regretted it as pain shot through his entire frame. No wonder he felt so stiff. “How long have I been out?” 

“Seventeen days, ten hours and thirty-seven minutes to be exact.” Ratchet answered without checking any of the charts posted on his berth. “I was starting to worry that you wouldn’t wake up at all. Or when you did wake up, there would be some short-term memory loss.” 

“I remember everything,” Thunderclash sighed, recalling Hot Rod’s stubborn refusal to abandon him to his fate. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind telling me what exactly happened. When that little punk crashed that mangled shuttle right into our new hanger, he rattled off a wild story filled with daring sabotage, damaged ships, hungry Terrorcons, and heroic piloting. Nobody believed him.” 

“But- but all that was true.” Thunderclash stared blankly at Ratchet as his words sunk in. “Ratchet. Roddy saved my life in every way that matters. He’s a hero. He’s MY hero!” 

“Humph! I thought so. I know one of Blot’s acid bites when I see it.” 

“First of all, how did you know Blot bit me? He’s a Terrorcon. How do you even know his name??” 

“It’s a long story. Don’t worry about it.” Ratchet stared pointedly at the ceiling to avoid looking into Thunderclash’s optics. 

“Fine! Keep you secrets. Again.” Thunderclash grumbled. “But what about Roddy? His whole story, OUR whole story was true! Why didn’t anyone believe him?!” 

“Unfortunately, many of the other Autobots don’t take him as seriously as they should. Rumors started that you were the true hero of your adventure. That you did everything yourself and Hot Rod just tagged along for the ride. Hot Rod shrugged them off, but I think it bothered him.” 

“Ratch! We did everything together! We made a promise: together or not at all! I have to find Roddy! I have to talk to him. Or Optimus! I want to tell him the truth. Then he would have to believe it.” 

Thunderclash struggled to get up again. Ratchet placed one hand on his broad chest and easily held him in place. Although Thunderclash was much larger, the medic possessed a great strength that belied his size. Thunderclash acquiesced and laid back down, recalling one time when Ratchet physically threw him out of his room while trying to study. Once the medic made up his mind, there was really no point in arguing. 

“It wouldn’t matter at this point. You’ve been out for weeks and the rumor mill has moved on to other topics. As for Hot Rod, due to the covert nature of the mission, his team is currently on a strict comm’s blackout. We can’t contact them and vice versa.” 

“A secret mission... Where’d they go?” Thunderclash buried his disappointment. He knew Hot Rod would keep moving forward. After all, it was one of the many things that he admired about him. 

“Looking for Megatron. After destroying our old base, we thought for sure that Megatron would hunt down our new location but something else seems to have caught his attention. The Nemesis changed course and departed this entire region of space. Optimus sent the Wreckers to search for the Nemesis and find out what Megatron’s up to, by infiltration if necessary. Hot Rod knows guerilla warfare better than anyone. Kup specifically requested him for the team.” 

Thunderclash leaned back and stared at the maddeningly familiar gray ceiling. Roddy was gone. Who knows when or if they would ever see other again. Laying there in bed, Thunderclash recalled Hot Rod’s deal and insistence that he keep living his best life. He made up his mind right then and there. 

“Ratch, I can’t do this anymore.” 

Thunderclash turned to face Ratchet. The medic’s clear blue optics widened with concern. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“This.” Thunderclash waved his one functioning arm vaguely around the room filled with chirping medical equipment. “All of it. I can’t fight in the war anymore.” 

“Oh. That.” Ratchet’s shoulders slumped with relief. “I thought you were done living.” 

“WHAT?! NO!! Quite the opposite actually. I know that I have limited time left and I want to live as much as I can. If I stay as a soldier, I’d be a liability on any mission because of my terminal injury. I tried with piloting the transport, but even then, things went awry. I’d be dead if Roddy wasn’t there to save me. It’s not fair to anyone that would be on my team. No one else should have to watch out for my health except me. I’ll still be an Autobot, but I’m leaving the army.” 

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. 

“Please ask Wheeljack to check out the mods that Roddy made to our shuttle. If he can replicate that system on a larger ship, then I can travel around inside a portable spark stabilization chamber. The entire ship will be my life support system.” The knowledge that Roddy’s ingenious machine would allow him some time to explore the universe warmed Thunderclash’s spark. Even if they couldn’t be together, it would be like having his friend watch over him all the time. 

“I’ll talk to Wheeljack. We currently have an old transport with light armor and minimal weapons that would be perfect to modify. But what do you plan to do?” Ratchet asked. 

Thunderclash was relieved to hear more curiosity than disparagement in his voice. 

“Live my dream of being a park ranger for a bit. There may not be any Cybertronian parks left, but the vastness of space makes a good substitute. I want to explore and help anyone in need. Roddy saved my life. I owe it to him to try my best every day. I’ll keep my comms open. If anyone ever needs me, I’ll be there.” 

“That all sounds nauseatingly noble.” Ratchet rolled his optics with a fond smile. 

“Thanks. I knew you’d understand.” Thunderclash grinned. 

“Does your decision to leave the army have anything to do with how poorly everyone treated Hot Rod?” Ratchet eyed him with a sly grin. 

“Maybe a little. It wasn’t right.” 

“Is that so? Let me check something.” Ratchet tenderly took Thunderclash’s face in his hands. He turned his helm gently side to side while maintaining optic contact. Energon rushed to Thunderclash’s cheeks. “Yep! It’s even worse than I thought.” 

“What? What’s worse?” 

“You’ve got a crush on that little speedster about a hundred miles wide!” Ratchet laughed. 

“No kidding! Tell me something that I don’t know!” Thunderclash huffed. “You scared the scrap out of me! I thought my spark condition got worse or something!” 

“What? You’re not even going to try to deny it?” 

“What for? Roddy is amazing!” 

“Oh! ’Roddy’ is it?” Ratchet made the air quote motion around Hot Rod’s nickname. “Have you told him how you feel?” 

“Not really.” Thunderclash sighed. An image of Roddy grinning, full of life and fire, flashed through his mind. A dreamy smile spread across his face. “He’s so incredible. He deserves the best. And I’m just a broken-down soldier living on borrowed time. We parted as friends. That’s more than enough.” 

“He deserves to decide for himself.” Ratchet folded his arms. 

“Okay. I’ll make you a deal.” Thunderclash’s dreamy smile curled into something sly. “I’ll tell Roddy how I feel when you finally confess your love to your secret Decepticon crush.” 

“WH- WHAT?!” Ratchet sputtered, his face lit up bright pink. “How do you know about him?!” 

“AH HA! I had my suspicions for a long time but I didn’t know for sure! Until just now! You’ve gone missing behind enemy lines several times only to return relatively safely and strangely happy. I knew someone was watching out for you!” Thunderclash burst into hearty laughter then abruptly stopped when something tugged in his chest. “Ow.” 

“Serves you right!” Ratchet jabbed a finger at Thunderclash. 

“What’s his name?” Thunderclash teased. 

“Not another word about him!” Ratchet huffed. 

“Tell me about him! It’s not one of the Terrorcons, is it? Blot? Rippersnapper?” 

“WHAT?! NO!!” 

“Hmm... What’s Ratchet’s type like? I bet he’s rough around the edges with a good spark. Sharp wit. Fiercely loyal. A total catch!” Thunderclash nudged Ratchet weakly. 

“Knock it off!!” Ratchet brandished a wrench at him, his initial shock burning into agitation. 

“Fine! Keep your secrets. Like always.” Thunderclash relented. His disappointed pout quickly brightened with thoughts of Hot Rod. “Want me to tell you about Roddy instead? He’s so amazing!” 

“Honestly, I’d rather have my crankshaft realigned with a rusty screwdriver.” Came Ratchet’s absolutely deadpan reply. 

Thunderclash snorted, careful not to laugh too hard and hurt himself again. 

Desperate for an escape, Ratchet stood up and patted Thunderclash’s arm, “I’m going to go finish my rounds. Believe it or not, YOU are not my only patient.” 

“I am your favorite though. Right?” Thunderclash grinned. He logically knew that he and Ratchet were friends but it still felt good to hear a reminder now and then. Something else he owed to Hot Rod. 

“Although it goes against my professional medical oaths, I guess so.” Ratchet shook his head with a reluctant smile. 

“Thanks, doc. I needed that.” 

“That’s not all you need. When I get back, we’re going to start physical therapy before all your joints seize up.” 

“Yeah. I’m really stiff. It’s going to be tough.” Thunderclash moaned. “But I promise to do my best!” 

“I know. Speaking of promises, here’s a little motivation for you.” Ratchet produced a small disposable datapad. “Hot Rod wrote you a note before he left. He made me swear on my spark to give it to you when you woke up.” 

“WHAT?! How come you didn’t lead with that?!” Thunderclash awkwardly lunged to snatch the datapad. He couldn’t move his arm far enough and totally missed. 

“Damn it, Clash! Take it easy!” Ratchet handed it to him before he fell out of the berth in his enthusiasm to grab the note. “Although, if you couldn’t reach that far, we have a ton of work to do.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Thunderclash clutched Hot Rod’s note protectively to his chest. He waved Ratchet off. “Go do your job. We’ll get started as soon as you get back.” 

Ratchet shook his head with a smile. He gave Thunderclash’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and the left to check on the rest of the patients. 

Thunderclash settled back down as comfortably as he could while attached to a dozen medical monitors and supplemental energon drips. Nothing else mattered but the tiny datapad cradled in his large hands like a precious artifact from ancient history. Their adventure had only been a few weeks ago, but it felt like a distant dream. 

More than a little nervous, Thunderclash cast a quick glance around the room to make sure he was alone and then flipped open the datapad. 

_Hey Thunders!_

The nickname instantly made him smile. He could practically hear Hot Rod’s bright voice. Warmth rushed through his frame. 

_Doc Ratchet says there’s a 50% chance that you won’t wake up. But that outcome sucks so I’m going to ignore it. Then he says that **WHEN** you do wake up, there’s 50% chance that you won’t remember our adventure. That outcome also fraggin’ sucks. I’m not great at math but I’m going to go with whatever percentage has the best outcome and you wake up totally fine._

_Side note: In the off chance that you are reading this and have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t worry about it. Short term memory loss is not your fault._

Thunderclash chuckled. Hot Rod wrote with the same informal warmth that he projected when speaking. 

_If you’ve read this far, you must remember everything!! Kudos!! You might think that I forgot, but I totally didn’t! You owe me! You said that you could never thank me enough and I told you all I want is for you to live your best life. I mean it!! If I find out that you heroically sacrificed your life because of your terminal injury, I’ll hunt you down and light your ghost on fire! Not even death will stop me!_

Thunderclash raised an optic ridge. He didn’t know which was stranger: that Hot Rod promised to immolate his disembodied spark if he carelessly threw his life away or that Thunderclash totally believed he could do it. 

_Sorry that I couldn’t be there when you woke up. Kup was on my case about this mission and I had to go. Gotta keep moving forward!_

Knowing that Hot Rod came to visit him every day, that he wanted to be there when Thunderclash woke up, make his optics water. Especially after the way no one believed his story about their adventure. His spark ached. It wasn’t Thunderclash’s fault, but he still felt responsible. 

_I know we’re at war and all, but the “following orders” thing is really starting to grind my gears. Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I agree with you. I would totally be a great Captain!_

_Tell you what! I’ll make you another deal right now: ~~If~~ WHEN I become Captain of my own ship, I’ll keep a spot in my crew open for you! Besides, you totally owe me a drink out of Ratchet’s secret stash._

_I have no idea how long we’ll be gone. I’ll see ya when I see ya! Take care of yourself until then!! Captain’s orders!_

_Your friend, Roddy!_

Thunderclash read the note again and again, feeling warmer and lighter each time. He loved the optimistic upbeat tone. Despite Thunderclash’s terminal injury, Roddy didn’t write like he was saying goodbye. It gave Thunderclash hope for himself. Although he dreaded the difficult recovery facing him, Thunderclash was determined to do his best. He owed Hot Rod that much. 

Imagining Roddy as the bold captain of his very own ship brought a smile to Thunderclash’s face. And the fact that he offered him a spot on his crew did something strange to his spark. A soft blush glowed on his cheeks. 

Leaning back in his medical berth, Thunderclash willed his limbs to cooperate. He snapped into a perfect salute. He raised his optics and looked past the dull gray ceiling tiles to imagine the countless stars glittering in the sky above. Looking beyond the war and his own precarious health, Thunderclash dared to dream of an impossible future. 

With tears in his optics and light in his spark, Thunderclash smiled and whispered, “Aye aye, Captain!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to [PrismPunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismPunkie/pseuds/PrismPunkie) for the great inspiration!
> 
> And a special thank you to everyone who joined me on this wild buddy movie adventure! It was a blast to write! And I really appreciate all the support of comments and kudos!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> I appreciate your kudos and love reading your comments!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: [lush-specimen.tumblr.com](lush-specimen.tumblr.com)


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